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I 



I 







PERCY WYNN AND HIS COMRADES 





PERCY WYNN; 


OR, 

MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


BY NEENAH, ^ ^ ^ 

Author of “Tom Playfair,” “Ada Merton,” “Charlie’s 


Victory 


A Very Unpopular Boy,”^tc. 



u 



CHICAGO : 


CATHOLIC COMPANION 
PRINT. 





COPYBIGHT BY 

AUGUSTINE J. SCHIML. 
1889. 



CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 


PAGE 

In which Percy Wynn bows to Thomas Playfair and 
Reader simultaneously. - - - - 9 

CHAPTER TI. 

In which Percy is cross examined by Thomas Play- 
fair, and makes some New Friends. - - - 19 

CHAPTER HI. 

In which Percy has a Strange Midnight Adventure. 25 
CHAPTER IV. 

In which Peters and Percy hold a very Odd Conversa- 
tion. . - - - - - 39 


C HAPTER V. 


In which Percy goes a Fishing. 


46 


VI 


CONTEXTS. 


CHAPTER VI. 

In which Percy takes his First Lessons in Swimming 
and Rowing. - - - - - 59 

CHAPTER VII. 

In which Percy, making way for the Heavy Villains 
of our story, does, wot, ap^(?Ai;., . ^ - - - 66 

chapter’ VIII. 


In which Percy makes a desperate resolve. 

CHAPTER IX. 

OA'.i 

In ^hjolL;P,»^py wifjifk^; a brave fight against Dis- 
couragements. - - ' It ", 


CHAPTER X. 

.1 • Jl'l'. ' ■ , > 


In whi^i Percy,, rescues Torn and Harry ; Tom and 
Harry rescue Percy ; and ' a third party rescue the 

. .vijC!!!'. .r . 

Trio. ■ - . ' . 


80 


“87 


92 


CHAPTER XI. 

In which Mfii 'Mkldiletoh finds his lost sheep, both 
White and Black. - - - - - 99 

CriXPTER Xll. 

-.CnC'ViR ! } l.i V ■ , , ... jy t 

In which Percy finds himself on the sick list. - 110 
CHAPTER XIII. 

i . .■.ft' ; ■ 

“ From Grave to Gay ” — A Serious Conversation fol- 
lowed by a game of Foot-ball. 


CONTENTS. ’ Vli 

CHAPTER XIV: 

In which Mr. Middleton , reads a stpry — and excite^, 
much interest. - , - , - . . . 131 

CHAPTER XV. 

In which Percy falls foul of the Village Youth,’ and' ' 
is compelled to “ Run the Gauntlet.” - - 139 

' ^ CHAPTER XVI. ; . 

In which some of our fiiends find it necessary to 
fight — also to run. - - - - - 148 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Beginning of the Christmas Holidays Percy is 

called to the parlor. - - - . . 153 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Introduces an extraordinary newcomer to Percy and 
the Reader. . . . - . 164 


CHAPTER XIX. 

In which Frank asks a great many people a great 
many questions ; teaches Percy how to “ Strike 
Out and make a Christmas speech betore break- 
fast. 176 


CHAPTER XX. 


A Merry Christmas to all. 


187 


VIII 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XXL 

An adventure on the railroad track. - - 195 

CHAPTER XXIL 

In which Tom meets two young gentlemen, whom he 
is not at all anxious to see. _ - - 207 

CHAPTER XXIIL 

“ Farewell : Parting is such Sweet Sorrow 1” — 
Shahespere. 214 


PERCY Y/YNK ; 

— OR,— 

MAKING A BOA^ OF HIM. 


CHAPTER I. 

IX WHICH PERCY WYNN BOWS TO THOMAS PLAYFAIR AND 

THE READER SIMUI.TANEOUSLY. 

“ Say, young fellow, what are you moping here for ?” 
The person thus rudely addressed was a slight, delicate, 
fair-complexioned child, whose age, one could perceive at a 
glance, must have been something under fourteen. Pre- 
vious to this interruption, he had been sitting solitary on 
a bench, in a retired corner of the college play-ground. 
That he was not a boy of ordinary characteristics was at 
once apparent. His eyes were large, fringed by long 
lashes ; and their deep blue was intensified by his fair 
features. His face was an exquisite oval; it was one of 
those expressive faces, which reveal in their every line the 
thoughts and emotions of the past. And his past must 
have been bright, and good, and pleasant ; for amiability 
and confidence and innocence had written their traces on 
every feature. But the rosy cheek, and the sunbeam’s 
tint were conspicuously absent, and in the matter of fact 
]>arlance of a school-fellow, his face and general appearance 
would be styled girlish. Nor would such appellation be 


JO. 


ri<:RCY WYXN, OR • 


entirely unjust. His Ininds were small, white mid delieate, 
while his golden hair fell in gleaming rij)]des about his 
shoulder. In jierfect keeping with all this, his form was 
Slight and shapely. Ev’en his attire lent its art towards 
bringing into notice the slender grace of his form. His 
neat coat, his knickerbockers wdiich barely reiiched to the 
knee, his black silk stockings, and his high-laced shoes, 
while clearly revealing the nice proportion of his form, 
w'ere agreeably set off and contrasted, in the soberness of 
their color, by a bright and carefully arranged neck-tie. 
No one, indeed, looking at him for a moment w'oiild hesi- 
tate to set him downi as “ Mamma’s Darling.” 

The boy wdio })ut him the question wais one of a group, 
which had just broken upon the solitude of our little 
friend. He was a contrast in every particular. Stout, 
freckle-faced, sandy-haiied, impudent ’in ex})ression, 
Charlie llichards, it was at once evident,' «’as somethimr of 
a bullyu There was an air of good-humour about his face, 
however, which wais a redeeming trait. If he was a bully 
and coi;seqnently cruel, it was rather from thoughtlessness, 
than from malice. If he was unkind, it was not that he 
lacked generous qualities, but rather because his> feelings 
had been blunted by evil associates. He, too, was a new- 
comer at St. Man re’s, having arrived on the opening class- 
day. Three weeks had already passed, and by his 'boldness 
and physical courage, he had gathered about him a follow- 
ing of .some nine or ten boys, all of whom w'ere incipient 
bullies, several of them far more cruel, far more wicked in 
disj)osition than their leader. 

When the boy’s question broke upon the child’s ears, he 
raised his head wdiich had been buried in his hands, and 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


11 . 


j2:azed in undisguised fear upon the group before him. 
Evidently, he had been so buried in his own thoughts and 
sorrows that their ap])roaeh had failed to arouse him. 

young fellow, don’t you hear me,” continued 

Richards, unsympathetically, “ what are vcu moping here 
for?” 

The boy’s lips trembled, but he made no answer. He 
seemed, indeed, at a loss for words. 

“ ^Vell, at least, tell us what’s your name?” pursued 
Richards. 

“Percy Wynn, sir.” 

His voice was clear and musical. The name evoked a 
low derisive chuckling from the crowd. 

“Percy Wynn! Percy Wynn!” repeated Richards in a 
tone intended to, be sarcastic. “ Why it’s a very, very 
j)retty name. Don’t you think so yourself?” 

“ (), yes, indeedy,” answered Percy very seriously, where- 
upon there was a shout of laughter from the boys. As 
Percy perceived that his questioner had been mocking 
him, the blood rushed to his face, and he blushed scarlet. 

“ My ! look how he blushes — just like a girl,” cried 
Martin Peters, a thin, puny, Aveazen-faced youth, who in 
lieu of strength employed a bitter tongue. 

There was another laugh, and as poor Percy realized 
f at the eyes of nearly a dozen boys were feeding and 
gloating upon his embarrassment, he blushed still more 
violently, and arising, sought to make his way through 
them, and escape their unwelcome company. 

P>ut Richards rudely clutched his arm. 

“ Hold on, Percy.” 

“ (), i)lease do let me go. I de.sire to be alone.” 


12 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


“No, no; sit down. I want to ask you some more 
questions.” And Richards roughly forced him back upon 
the bench. 

“Now, Percy, do you know where you’re going to sleep 
to-night?” 

“ Yes, sir ; over there in that — that — dormitory. T think 
the prefect said it was. He showed me my bed a little while 
ago.” 

“ Very well ; now you’re a new-comer, and don’t know 
the customs of this place. So I want to tell you some- 
thing. To-night just as soon as you get in bed — and, by 
the way, you must hurry up about it — you must say in a 
loud clear tone — put out the lights, Mr. Prefect, Pm in 
bed.” 

The listeners and admirers of Richards forced their faces 
into an expression of gravity. They were inwardly 
tickled : lying came under their low standard of wit. 

“ O, indeed,” said Percy. “ Excuse me, sir, but can’t 
you get someone else to say it ?” 

“ No, no ; you must say it yourself. It’s the custom for 
new-comers to do it the first night they arrive.” 

“But, dear me!” exclaimed Percy, “isn’t it a funny 
custom ?” 

“ Well, it is funny,” Richards assented, “ but it’s got to 
be done all the same.” 

“ Very well, then ; I suppose I must do it.” 

“ Now, do you remember what you are to say ?” 

“ Put out the lights, Mr. Prefect ; I’m in bed.” 

“That’s it exactly; you’ve learned your lesson well. 
Now there’s another thing to de done. You must turn a 
handspring right off.” 


maki>:g a boy of him. 


13 


“Turn what?” asked Percy in a puzzled tone. 

“ Look,” and Richards suited the action to the word. 

“ O, upon iny word,” protested Percy in all earnestness, 
“ I can’t.” 

“ Xo matter; you can try.” 

“ O please do excuse me, sir, this time, and I’ll practise 
at it in private,” pleaded Percy. “ And when I’ve learned 
it, I’ll be ever so glad to comply with your wishes.” 

“ Whew!” exclaimed John Sommers, “he’s been reading 
up a dictionary !” 

“ O, indeed I haven’t,” protested Percy. 

“ Come on,” Richards urged in a tone almost menacing, 
“ you must try. Hurry up, now ; no fooling.” 

Percy could endure his awkward position no longer. 
Rursting into tears, he arose and again attempted to make 
his way through his tormentors. 

Richards caught him more rudely than upon the first 
occasion, and with some unnecessary and brutal violence 
filing him back upon the bench. “See here, young fel- 
low,” he said angrily, “do you want to fight? or are you 
going to do what you’re told ?” 

“ Of course, he doesn’t want to fight, and he’d be a fool 
to do anything you tell him,” said a new-comer on the 
scene, who brought himself through the thick of the crowd 
by dint of vigorous and unceremonious elbowing. “ See 
here, Richards, it’s mean of you to come here with your 
crowd and tease a new boy. Let him alone.” And 
IMaster Thomas Playfair seated himself beside the weeping 
hoy, and stared very steadily and indignantly into Rich- 
ards’ face. The bully’s eyes lowered involuntarily, he 
hesitated for one moment, then abashed turned away. 


14 . 


PERCY W'YXN, OR 


Tom Phiyfjiir wms mi “Old Toy,” this being his third 
year at St. Maiirc’s. Xow to be an “ohl boy ” is in itself, 
according to boarding school traditions, an undoubted mark 
of suiieiiority. Furthermore he was the most |'( pular lad 
in the small yard ; and although Richards was older and 
somewhat more sturdily built than Tom, it would not do 
for him to come into collision with one so influential. So 
Richards sulkily withdrew, and was speedily folhAvcd by 
his companions, leaving Percy alone with Tom Playfair. 

Tom Playfair ! the same briglit, cheerful, happy Tom, 
whom the readers of the Cath. Lie Compaxion have al- 
ready met. Just as healthy, stronger, a little taller ; but 
the same kind, genial Tom. ilis sturdy little legs were 
still encased in knickerbockers, his rounded cheeks still 
glowed with health ; his blue sailor shirt still covered the 
same brave, strong heart. 

For a few moments there was a silence, broken only by 
the sobs of Percy. Tom’s right hand, meanwhile was deep 
in his coat pocket. Presently, when Percy had become 
calmer, it emerged filled. 

“ Here, Percy, take some candy.” 

Tom had a way of offering candy which was simply irresis- 
tible. No long speech could hav.e had so re-assuring an effect. 
Percy accepted the candy, and brightened up at once ; put 
a caramel in his mouth, then drawing a dainty silk hand- 
kerchief from his breast pocket, he wiped his eyes, and 
broke into a smile which spoke volumes of gratitude. 

“That’s good,” said Tom encouragingly. “You’re all 
right now. My name’s Tom Playfair, and I come from St. 
Louis. I know your name already, so you needn’t tell me 
it. Are you a Chicago boy ?” 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


15 . 


“ No, sir, I’m from Bultimore.” 

“ See here,” said Tom, “do you want me to run away 

“ No indeedy,” said Percy smiling, shaking back his long 
locks, and oi)ening his eyes very wide. “ Why, are you 
afraid of Baltimore boys?” 

“ It isn’t that,” Tom ' made answer. “But if you say 
‘ sir’ to me, I’ll run away. C.dl me Tom and i’ll call you 
Percy.” 

“ VTry well, Tom, I will. And I am very happy to make 
your acquaintance. '• 

Tom was startled, and fora moment paused, not knowing 
what manner of reply to make to this neatly worded com- 
l)liment. 

“ Well,” he said at length, “ let’s shake hands then.” 

To his still greater astonishment, Percy gravely arose 
ail'd with a graceful movement of his body, which was 
neither a bow nor a curtsy, but something between the two, 
politely took his hand. 

“ Well, I never !” gasped Tom. “Where in the world 
did you come from ?” 

“ From Baltimore, Maryland,” said Percy. “ I thought 
I had just told you.” 

“ Are all the boys there like you ?” 

“ Well, indeed, Tom, I really don’t know. E wasn’t ac- 
quainted with any boys, you know. Mamma said they 
were too rough. And ’’—here Percy broke almost into a 
sob — ” they are rough too. You’re the only one of the 
boys I’ve met so far, Tom, that’s been kind to me.” 

Tom whistled softly. 

“ Didn’t know any boys ?” 

“ Not one.” 


16 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


“ Well, then, who on the round earth did you play 
with ?” 

“ O, with my sis^ters, Tcm. I haye ten sisters. The 
oldest is eighteen, and the youngest is six. Kate and 
Mary are twins. And O, Tom, they are all so kind and 
nice. I wish you knew them; I’m sure you’d like them 
immensely.” 

Tom had his doubts. In his unromantic way, he looked 
upon girls as creatures who were to be made use of by be- 
ing avoided. 

“ Did you j^lay games with your sisters, Percy ?” 

“O, yes indeedy ! And, Tom, I can dress a doll, or s( w 
just as nicely as any of them. And I could beat them all 
at the skipping rope. Then we used to play ‘Pussy wjints 
a corner,’ and ‘ Hunt the slipper,’ ‘ Gr(;cery store,’ and I 
. used to keep the grocery and they were the customers — 
and oh ! we did have such times. And then at night, 
mamma used to read to us, Tom — such splendid stories, 
and sometimes beautiful poems, too. Did you ever hear 
the story of Aladdin and the wonderful lamp?” 

“ I believe not,” said Tom modestly. 

“ Or Ali Baba and the forty thieves?” 

Tom again entered a negative. 

“ O, they’re just too good ; they’re charming. I’ll tell 
them to you, Tom, some day, and a good many more. I 
know ever so many.” 

“ I like a good story,” said Tom. “ And I’m sure I’ll be 
very glad to listen to some of yours.” 

“0, yes, indeedy! But Tom, do. you know why I’ve 
come here. Our family has given up housekee]n'ng. Poor, 
dear mamma has fallen into very delicate health, and has 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


17 


gone to Europe with papa for a rest. Pa[)a has given up 
business, and intends, when he returns, to settle in Cin- 
cinnati. He has sent all my sisters to the school of the 
Sacred Heart there, except the oldest and the two youngest 
who are staying with my aunt who lives on Broadway. 
But they’ve promised to write to me every day. They’re 
' going to take turns. Do your sisters write to you regularly, 
Tom ?” 

‘ I haven’t any sister,” Tom answered smiling. But 
there was just a touch of sadness in the smile. 

“ What! not a single one?” 

Percy’s expression was one of astonishment. 

“ Not one.” 

Astonishment softened into pity. 

“ O, poor boy 1” he cried clasping his hands in dismay. 
How did you manage to get on !” 

“Oh, I’ve pulled through. My mamma is dead too,” 
said Tom still more sadly. 

The deep sympathy which came upon Percy’s face at 
this declaration bespoke a tender and sympathetic heart. 
He said nothing, but clasped Tom’s hand and pressed it 
warmly. 

“ Well, you are a, good fellow !” broke out Tom, putting 
away his emotion under cover of boisterousness, “ and I’m 
going to. make a boy out of you." . , 

“ A boy !” Percy repeated. 

“ Yes, a boy, a real boy.” , 

“ Excuse me, Tom ; but may I ask what you consider 
me to be now ?” 

Tom hesitated. 

“ You won’t mind ?” he said doubtfully. 


TEIICY AVYNN, OR 


1 8 

“ (), not from you, Tom, you’re my friend.” 

“ Well,” said Tom haltingly, “ you’re — well you're just 
a little l>it queer, odd — (jlrlhh — that’s it.” 

Percy’s eyes opened wide with astonishment. 

“ You don’t say ! O, dear me ! But Tom. it’s so funny 
that I never heard I was that way. before. My juamma .and 
my sisters never told me anything about it.” 

“ Maybe they didn’t know any boys.” 

“ O, yes they did, Tom. They knew 

Percy considered this convincing. 

“Yes; but you’re not like other boys. They couldn’t 
judge by you.” 

“ Excuse me?” said Percy still in great astonishment. 

“ You’re not like other boys; not a bit.” 

“But Pvejrftf/a great deal ab( ut beiys. J’ve read the 

Boyhood of Great Painters and Musicians, and about other 

boys too, but I can’t remember them all now. Then Pve 

read Hood's — 

‘ (), whon I wns a litUe boy 
My clays and niarhts were full of joy.’ 

Isn’t that nice, Tom ? I know the whole poem by heart.” 

It was now Tom’s turn to be astonished. 

“ You don’t mean to say,” he said in a voice expressive 
almost of awe, “ that you read poetry-books?” 

“O, yes indeedy,” answered Percy with growing amina- 
tion, “ and I like Longfellow ever so much — he’s a dear 
poet — don’t you ?” 

Just then the bell rang for supper. Tom absorbed in 
wonder brought his new friend to the refectory, and, dur- 
ing the meal, could scarcely refrain from smiling, as 
he noticed with what da’inty grace our little Percy took his 
first meal at 8t. Maure’s. 


CHAPTER II. 


IX WHICH PKRCY IS CROSS EXAMINED BY THOMAS PLAY- 
FAIR, AND MAKES SOME NEW FRIENDS. 

“Harry! Harry Quip,” shouted Poiri as the boys came 
out from supper, “ come here. 1 want to introduce you.” 

Harry making his way out of the crowd, came forward, 
and was as sheepish as boys generally are on the occasion 
of an introduction. 

“ Hari\v Quip, this is a new boy all the way from 
Baltimore, and his name is Percy Wynn.” 

Harry put out his hand awkwardly enough. Suddenly, 
the sheepishness upon his face crystallized into the most 
violent amazement, as graceful Percy, with his half-bow, 
half courtesy, distinctly enunciated: — 

“ Mr. Harry Quip, I am charmed to make your ac- 
quaintance.” 

“ Quotes poetry, too,” said Tom in a low whisper to 
Harry, “and he uses bigger words than I’ve ever seen out 
of a book ”— He then added aloud, “ Say, Harry, I wish 
you’d go and see to his desk and things in the study hall ; 
and when you’re through bring Joe Whyte and Will 
Ruthers along. I’ll be down at the further end of the 
yard with Percy. I want to have a little talk with him.” 

Harry was only too glad to get away, his face still ex- 
pressing utmost astonishment, and his lips muttering in 
stupefied wonder-^“ And he quotes poetry, too!” 

“ Percy,” began Tom as they sauntered down the yard 
towards a bench at the further end, “ did you ever play 


20 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


l)u^e ball ?” 

“ No; but Fve heard about it.” 

“ Did 5’oa ever ])Iay hand ball ?” 

“Do 3’ou mean a returning ball, Toni? (), lots of 
times.” 

Tom did not mean a returning ball, but he went on. 

“ Did you ever handle a gun ?” ' 

“Amt? gun?” :' ■ V 

“ Of course. I don’t mean a jMtpgun or a broomstick.” 
“With real powdel*, and real bullets I” exclaimed Percy 
in horror — “ O, Tom! The idea!” 

“Ever go lisliing with a trc/ hook, and a mt? line?” 
Tom next enquired, mischievously employing Percy’s 
turn of expression. ' 

“ No, but Pd like to, if some one would fix on the woi in, 
and take the fish ofi'the hook.” - 

“ Did you ever go boating in a real boat, on real water ?” 
“ O, dear, no! Mamma said that ^ boats ^ tip so' 'easily. 
8 he wouldn’t have allowed me to get in one even if I 
wished.” ^ i ■ 

“ Did you ever go to a circus ?” ' 

“ Once, Tom : Sister Mary, sister Jane lind myself with 
papa. And O ! wasn’t it splendid. The clown was 'the 
funniest thing ! He used to make such awfully queer re- 
marks. I wondered where he got them all. After that I 
used to play circus at home. But really, I didn’t succeed 
very well. I didn’t dare try to imitate the clown, and 
most of the things I saw were too hard.” 

Tom was iiot yet through with his analysis. He thought 
of all the amusements of his anti-college days. 

“ Did you ever run to a fire ?” 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


21 


“ O, no iiuleedy !” said Percy. 

“ Can you swim ?” 

“ I used to try in the bath-room at home, but the basin 
was too small. Mamma said it was dangerous to go in 
<^leep water.” 

Tom reliected from a moment, lie was both amused and 
surprised. 

“Weil,” he resumed after a silence, “most boys are 
pretty well uj) in all these things long before they get to be 
your age.” 

“ You astonish me,” said Percy. 

“ Let’s look at your hands — Ah — I thought so — they’re 
soft as — as mush. Here, now 1 want you to do me a favor. 
JSiiUt your' hand tight — that’s it — tighter still. Now hit 
me as hard as you can on the muscle — here !” And Tom 
holding out his right arm, indicated the upper half. 

“'O, Torn,'! don’t’want to hurt you!” 

“Don’t be alarmed: Pm tough,” said Tom smiling. 
“'Go' on now, strike as hard as you can.” 

Percy brought his arm throligh the air in much the 
same ihanner as a woman when attempting to throw some- 
thing; but as he neared Tom’s arm, his courage failed. 

“1 can’t do it. O, indeed, I can’t.” 

“ Come on, all your might,” said Tom. 

Percy gave his arm another tremendous swing; but he 
relented at the very last moment, and so he came down 
with his little knuckles on Tom’s sturdy limb with a 
gentleness,' which was almost caressing. 

“ Don’t pet me,” said Tom in mock seriousness, “ I’m n ot 
used to it. Pshaw ! a fly wouldn’t have known he was hit. 
Over again now’, and just as hard as you can.” 


22 


PERCY WYNX, OR 


This time, Percy, closing his lips firmly and shutting his 
eyes so as not to lose courage, brought his doubled fist with 
all the force he could muster against the extended arm. 

There was a cry of pain. 

But not from Tom. 

“ O, laws!” Percy exclaimed, “ Pve hurt my hand.” 

Tom sat down upon the bench, and laughed till the 
teais came to his eyes. 

“ Why, you’re the funniest boy I ever met.” 

“ Am I ?” said Percy doubtfully, and smiling in his 
perplexity. 

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy it. Oh! here comes Mr. 
Middleton,” he continued. “ He’s a nice man, and I like 
him immensely. Good evening, Mr. Middleton,” — he 
gracefully raised his hat and made his curious little bow — 
“ it’s a beautiful evening, sir, isn’t it?” 

“ Very nice, indeed,” the prefect made answer with a 
cheering smile. He was much amused by the quaint ways 
of the new student, although from delicacy, he allowed his 
countenance to give no sign of his feelings. 

“ You didn’t wait for me, Percy,” he continued, “out- 
side the dormitory after I gave you your bed ; and so I had 
no opportunity of introducing you to some of the boys be- 
fore supper. But I’ve noticed already that you seem able 
to make your own way.” 

“ I don’t like boys, Mr. Middleton.” 

“ Indeed, that’s strange. You’re a boy yourself.” 

“ Yes, sir, but I can’t help that, I like girls better.” 

“ Do you ?” 

“ Yes indeedy. My sisters are ever so mucli nicer than 
boys.” 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


23 


‘‘ But perhaps you don’t know many boys.” 

Well, that’s so, sir. There were a few here came up to 
me just before supper, and they were awfully rough. 
Indeed, if it ^ hadn’t been for Tom, I don’t know what I’d 
have done. But I do like Tom, Mr. Middleton, 1 like him 
just ys if he was Pancratius.” 

Tom blushed at the compliment, and was puzzled by the 
comparison. . „ . 

“ 8o you’ve read Fabiola, Percy ?” pursued the prefect. 

“ O, yes, indeedy, every \yord of it. Isn’t it a beautiful 
book. And St. Agnes! 1 did like her. And do you 
remember the little boy who was carrying the blessed 
Sacrament concealed in his bosom and died rather than let 
the pagans desecrate and insult it? O, that was so noble. 
He was a hero 1” 

“Clearly this is an extraordinary lad,” thought the pre- 
fect. “ Under all his odd, quaint, girlish ways there is 
hidden a beautiful soul. He has fallen in too with the 
very boy who will best help to his development.” 

W’ith a few words of encouragement, and a friendly 
smile, Mr. Middleton left them. Presently Harry ap- 
])eared, bringing with him Joe Whyte and Willie Ruthers. 
After the same , startling bow consequent on the introduc- 
tion had awakened the wonder of the new-comers, y con- 
versation began, which drifting here and there, was finally 
closed by Tom’s proposing a story. 

Without the least hesitation, Percy related the adven- 
tures of Ali Baba with the immortal forty thieves. 
Certainly his fluency and animation were wonderful. He 
spoke in tones beautifully modulated, ynd employed words 
which — to borrow Harry Quip’s subsequent remark — 


24 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


“ would give an ordinary boy the lockjaw.” In the heat 
of narration, too, he sometimes made gestures, and they 
were markedly elegant. In short, the whole proceeding 
was so extraordinary that the listeners while fairly carried 
away by the interest of the story, could not hut glance at 
each other from time to time in silent wonder. 

For full twenty-five minutes did the young narrator 
hold out ; and when the hell sounded for studies, the 
listeners all agreed that they had rarely spent so pleasant 
an evening. Girlish of manner, odd of speech, dainty of 
gesture, though our little Percy was, he had yet found his 
way into the hearts of Tom and his fiicnds. Jimmy 
Aldine’s place was now filled. 

That Jiight Mr. Middleton was quietly reading in the 
dormitor\ while the boys were a-slipping into bed, when a 
clear, sweet voice broke the stillness. 

“ Put out the lights, Mr. Prefect, Pm in bed.” 

Mr. Middleton arose from his chair, and swejit the whole 
length of the dormitory with his eye. There was a general 
smile, hut no loud laughter. Poor little Percy, dreadfully 
alarmed at the sound of his own voice breaking upon the 
silence, shut his eyes tight. Of course, he could soircely 
hear the smiles, and so as everything was quiet, he had no 
reason to think that his proceedings had been in any wise 
irregular. And thus very soon, the singular child fell 
asleep, with those sacred names upon his lips, which a fond 
mother, bending nightly over the bedside of her child, had 
taught him to utter in all confidence, innocence and love. 


CHAPTER III. 


IN WHICH PERCY HAS A STRANGE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 

At half-past five next morning, the wash-room of the 
junior students literally swarmed with boys, while their 
number was being constantly swelled by fresh additions 
from the dormitory. There was no talking in the room, 
but the clatter of basins, the splash and ripple and gurgle 
of water, the sibilant noise of many brushes, and like a 
refrain, the hurried movement to and fro of little lads in 
all the varying stages of incomplete toilet, gave the 
apartment an air of animation and crowded life, which, to 
a;i uninitiated onlo )ker, was really refreshing. 

As Percy descended the stairs of the dormitory the 
sight certainly struck him with a sense of novelty. Boys 
pulling on coats, boys taking them off’ boys baring their 
arms, boys blacking their shoes, boys brushing them, boys 
combing their hair, boys lathering their heads till their 
figures looked like so many overgrown snowballs mounted 
on live, moving legs — boys, boys, boys, in every conceiv- 
able attitude made up a scene’ charged with life, vigorous 
with bustling variety. 

In matters of toilet, Percy was perfectly at home. So 
without much ado, he filled his basin, and acquitted him- 
self of his ablutions with the neatness and precision, of an 
expert. But when it came to arranging his tie, he glanced 
around the wash-room till finally he espied Tom. 

“ Good morning, Tom,” he said addressing, that young 
gentleman, who was making energetic endeavors to get 


ri:iicY vv^Yxx, or 


2 (> 

gome injudiciously applied soap out of his eye. “ Why 
you’re a perfect fright! You don’t know how to comb 
your hair at all. Let me lix it.” 

There was a titter among the bovs in the immediate 
vicinity, and Ton, having rid himself of the soap, laugh- 
ingly delivered over his comb and brush to Percy. 

“ Your hair doesn’t look nice when you comb it flat. 
Tom. I’ll make it a little pufFv, I am sure it will improve 
your appearance wonderfully. Hold your head still, you 
naughty boy. There now, iks done, and you look ever so 
much improved. But look here, Tom! You’ve got on 
that same tie I noticed yesterday. The idea of wearing a 
blue tie on a blue shirt! Why, they don’t set each other 
off at all. Let me see.” 

He stood olF a few feet from Tom, and examined him 
critically. 

“ O, yes. Yellow goes well with blue, and I’ve a beauti- 
ful golden tie, which I’m going to give you.” 

“ Percy,” said Mr. Middleton. 

Percy turned, and found the prefect beride him with 
his finger to his lips. 

“ O, excuse me, Mr Middleton, I really beg your 
pardon. I just wished to fix Tom a little. I forgot all 
about silence. I won’t speak loud any more.” 

Tripping over to his wash-box, he quickly returned with 
the “beantiful golden tie,” which with a few dexterous 
folds, he tied into what is popularly called, I delieve, a 
“butterfly.” This bewitching decoration added a new and 
unusual grace to Tom’s naturally pleasing appearance. 

“ There!” whispered Percy, with the enthusiasm of an 
artist, “ you look ever so much improved. Now, fix my 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


V 27 


tie,” 

“I’m afraid it’s not in my line,” Tom answered 
modestly. , . 

“ Don’t you know how to fix a tie ? I thought everybody 
knew that !” 

“ I never had any sisters to teach me,” suggested Tom. 

“ O, so you didn’t. A\^el|, it doesn’t matter. I’ll get . 
Mr. Middleton to do it, he’s so nice.” 

Before Tom could remonstrate or otherwise express his 
astonishment, Percy calmly walked up to Mr. Middleton, 
who was standing at the end of the room beside the 
dormitory steps. 

“ Mr. Middleton, will you kindly fix on my tie. I’m not 
used to doing it myself. Sister Mary always did it. I 
asked Tom to help me, but he doesn’t know how.” 

The prefect smiled at this unusual request, and accept- 
ing the tie he arranged it to the best of his ability, while 
Percy in his polite way, look it entirely as a matter of 
course. 

“ Many thanks, Mr. Middleton, I don’t think I’ll have to 
trouble you again, for I intend to teach Tom how to do it 
to-day.” And with his peculiar bow, Percy left the wash- 
room. 

Mass and studies before breakfast passed away without 
incident worthy of notice. During the Holy Sacrifice, Percy 
impressed those near him with his modesty and reverence. 
He had a richly bound, clasped, prayerbook, wdiich he 
evidently knew how to use. 

After breakfast, he called Tqm^ Harry, Willie and Joe 
to accompany him to the trunk-room 

“ I’ve got something for each one of you,” he said smil- 


2 8 ■ PERCY WYXN, OR 

ing gJiyly, as they entered the sanctum of tlie clothcs- 
keeper. 

From his trunk he produced a perfumed box, and open- 
ing it revealed to their glances of admiration a number of 
pretty silk handkerchiefs. 

. “ Take your choice,” he said. 

, “ Nonsense !” protested Tom, “ we’re not brigands. 

Keep them yourself, Percy. 

But Percy so lost countenance at this refusal, and pro- 
tested so earnestly that nothing would please him more 
than their each accepting one, that Tom, Ilarry, Willie, 
and Joe were fain at length to yield. Nor was Percy yet 
satisfied. He insisted on instructing each of llum In.w 
and where to carry his gift: and when all, after due direc- 
tion, stood before him with the least little tip of handker- 
chief just peeping over their breast-pockets, he clapped 
his hands. 

But Tom put an end to these proceedings. 

“ Now it’s my turn, Percy. Come to the yard, and I’ll 
teach you a trick or two.” 

To the yarel they went in a body. 

“Now,” Tom remarked a moment later, “spread your 
legs just the least little bit so as to make yourself steady, 
and bend your head till your chin touches your chest.” 

Percy complied. 

“ Now be sure to stand steady, or you’ll tumble.” 

“ What are you going to do, Tom ?” 

By way of answer, Tom, bracing himself lightly on 
Percy’s shoulders, leaped clean over him much to that 
young gentleman’s astonishment, who, after having ic- 
coveied his partially lost balance, anxi(/Usly asked Tcni 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


29 


M’lielber he were hurt. 

‘‘ B^sh!” said Tom. “ You can do it yourself.” 

“ O dear no!”. 

“ But you can try.” 

“I’d be sure to fall on my head, and diity my clotl ts 
and besides,” laughed Percy, venturing on a joke, “ I 
might spill out all my ideas.” 

“ O, go on,” urged Harry Quip. “Joe and I will stand 
on the other side, and be ready to catch you, if you fall.” 

Tom had already (to use the technical expression of the 
small boy,) ” made a back for him.” 

“O, I can’t,” said Percy. “ It’s too high.” 

“ Well, Pll stoop lower then,” and Tom bringing his 
arms below his knees and clasping his hands, doubled him- 
self up. 

“That looks easier,” said Percy. 

Compressing his lips and summoning all his resolution, 
Percy drew off some fifty feet, then at a great run he 
cleared Tom’s back without, as he had anticipated, 
“ spilling his ideas.” 

“ 0 that’s glorious!” he cried. “ Let me try it again.” 

The experiment was repeated over and over until Percy 
who had rarely indulged in exercise more violent than fast 
walking, was completely out of breath. But he was proud 
of his success, and the sympathetic encouragement which 
his playfellows evinced, so added to his happiness that, 
while his countenance was flushed from the exhilerating 
exercise, it beamed also with the double happiness of being 
pleased and of pleasing. Leap-frog came upon him like a 
revelation; it opened new and undeveloped possibilities in 
his life. 


30 


PERCY WYNX, OR 


“ Is that the kind of games boys have?” he asked ^^hcn 
he had recovered breath sufficient to speak. 

“Oh! that’s nothing extra,” said Joe Whyte. “It’s 
nothing at all to some games.’’ 

“ You ought to see Foot-and-a-half,” said Willie. 

“ Or Bom-bay,” added Harry Quip. 

“And Base-ball,” Tom chimed in, “ is better than all of 
them put together.” 

“You don’t say. Well, I declaie! You astonish me,” 
said Percy. “ And now I’m glad I’m a boy.” 

“ That’s sensible,” said Tom, “ and the older you get the 
gladder you’ll be.” 

Tom had decided views on this point. 

Presently Percy was called away by the prefect of studies 
to be examined. On his return, Tom and Harry were 
delighted at learning that he was to be their classmate. 
They were both in the Second Academic, a class in which 
Greek is begun, and the Latin continued from the prececd- 
ing year. 

During class, that morning, Percy listened with great 
attention. The “ Viri Eomae,” which he vainly tried to 
make out, as the boys translated and parsed it line by line, 
troubled him not a little. He could make m thing at all cf 
it. 

Towards the end of class, he said aloud : 

“Mr. Middleton, don’t you think' that the study of 
Latin is attended with considerable difficulties for a 
beginner?” * 

The boys were too astounded to laugh. 

“ It is hard'at first,” admitted the professor A\ith a smile. 
“There’s a proverb, you kndvv, which says ‘knowledge 


M\K[Na A BOY OF HIM. 


31 


makes Ji bloody .entrance., Still the more you learn of it 
the more you will like it, and the easier, too, will it be- 
come ” 

“ Th ink you, sir,” said Percy, ‘‘ I belieye what you say, 
though it has neyer struck me that way before. I know 
it’s true in Ei^lish studies— the m ire I read the more I 
loye to read — Oh! Mr. Middleton, won’t you please tell us 
a story? ” 

Percy spoke as he would hay& spoken to his mother or 
his sisters. Not a little to his astonishment, then, this 
sudden and unlooked for request was greeted with a 
general burst of laughter. 

Mr. .Middleton smiled, ^nd “ put the question by,” in 
requesting one of the students to parse the fourth line of 
the lesson. 

Charlie Richards was a member of the class, and his at- 
tention and contempt were strongly roused by the singular 
remarks of the new-comer. 

“ What a silly innocent that fellow is,” he reflected. 
‘•He must haye been tied to his mother’s apron string. 
I think we can get some fun out of him.” 

Richard’s course of thinking was not in yain. At recess 
he held a whispered consultation with Peters. 

“ We’ll scare the wits out of him.’J said Richards when 
he had fully deyeloped his plot. 

“ 0, it’ll be great fun,” chuckled Peters, rubbing his 
skinny hands together. “ PI 1 fix. up your face so you’ll 
look like an awful ghost. “ Pll put red paint about your 
eyes, and blacken the rest of your face, so that you’ll just 
frighten him into fils.” ' i 

For a long time, did these two vyeigh and consider the 


82 


PERCY WYNX, OR 


plans for their vile practical joke. Their innocent victim, 
meanwhile, was atlcllng to his stock of experiences things 
to him altogether new. ■ 

In the recreation hour jifter dinner, Tom produced a 
hase-ball. 

‘‘ See that Percy.” 

“ O, what a hard ball,” cried Percy, feeling of it. 

“ Well, you’ve got t<i learn to catch it.” ' 

“ I ? no, indeedy, it’s just like a rock. My poor little 
lingers would be ruined and then, m, 1 W( uldn’t l.e rile 
to play the piano.” 

“ Halloa ! can you play the piano?” 

“ Yes, indeedy: I just love it. And I can sing too.” 

“ Why, you know everthing, I don’t know, and don’t 
know anything, I do.” 

Percy laughed. 

“ My sisters taught me,” he said, as he shook back his 
sun ny locks.” 

“ Did they teach you to say, “ Yes, indeedy, no indeedy,” 
queried Tom slyly. 

“ O, la! how you do notice things. Indeedy isn’t good 
grammar I know.” 

“ It’s worse yet,” said Tom, “ it’s girlish.” 

You don’t tell me !” cried Percy, his blue eyes opening 
to their widest. “Now I know why everybody laughs 
when I say it. Thank you, Tom, ever so much. I’ll stop 
using it.” 

“ But what about this ball : you must learn to catch it.” 

“ [Catch that ball ! I’d as lieve catch a cannon ball. O 
no indeedy — that is,” he said catching himself, — “that is, 
indeed I won’t.” 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


83 


“0, it’s not so hard,” said Tom. “Here I’ll make it 
easy for you, and show you how i^’s done, too. Take the 
ball and walk off about twenty paces* from me then throw 
it as hard as you can at me, and see me catch it.” 

“ But you mustn’t be put out, if I hurt you,” pleaded 
Percy, as he took his stand at the assigned distance. 

“ I’ll take all risks,” said Tom in great glee. 

Percy, with the ball in his right hand, made a feint of 
throwing it. 

“Don’t baulk,” said Tom. “Throw it as hard as ever 
you can. If it’s too swift” — here Tom was obliged to pause 
that he might suppress a laugh — “I’ll dodge it.” 

There was no necessity for “ dodging,” however. 

Percy whirled his arm round and round, and at length 
let the ball fly from his hand. He trembled for the con- 
sequences. And indeed not without reason. The ball 
instead of making towards Tom went some thirty or forty 
feet wide of him (were he a giant he could not have 
“covered so much ground”) and seemed to be making 
straight for the head of John Donnel, who with his hands 
in his pockets was evincing the deepest interest in the pro- 
gress of a game of hand-ball. 

“ Look out, John,” roared Tom. “ Duck your head.” 
The warning came just in time. By a quick movement 
John succeded in receiving the ball on the back of his 
head instead of in the face. 

“ Well, I never !” he said rubbing the injured part. As 
he spoke, a piercing, startling scream broke upon his ears. 
It was from Percy. 

“ O, poor boy !” he cried running over to John, tears of 
sympathy standing in his eyes. “ I must have hurt you 


pi: [ICY WYNX, OR 


o I 

o± 

very inacli. I>.it upoo my honor, I didn’t mean it, sir. 
Indeed, I didn’t: did I, Tom ? O, sir, please tell me you’re 
not seriously hurt. Ileally and truly, I’m awfully morti- 
lied.” 

If the ball had surprised John, this sympathetic and 
eager address coming from the lii)s of a dainty little lad 
whom he had never met before, astounded him. 

“ O, I’m dreadfully hurt,” he said ^\ith mock solemnity, 
“ I suppose somebody will be obliged to carry me over to 
the infirmary.” 

“ O, la! deary me!” wailed Percy. “Poor boy! Tom 
and I will carry you any where you wish. Tom you catch 
his feet, and I’ll take his head. O, sir, only say you’ll for. 
give me.” 

And Percy was on the point of crying. 

“ Why, you little goose, you don’t mean to say you 
honestly think I’m hurt,” laughed the great second base- 
man of the small yard as he perceival that Percy was tak- 
ing him seriously. “ I’m not hurt a bit. Of course, I for- 
give you, and whenever you feel particularly inclined to 
amuse yourself, you can come and throw your ball at me 
again.” 

“ Then there’d be no danger of your being hit,” said 
Tom gravely. “He won’t hit the fellow he’s aiming at, it’s 
the other fellow.” 

Percy relieved of his fears, joined in the laugh. 

“ Won’t you introduce me?” suggested Percy. 

“ Certainly. John Donnel this is Percy Wynn.” The 
bow and the polite little speech were gone through in 
Percy’s best form. 

John was amused and charmed. Not only was he the 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


35 


largest boy in the yard, he was also the most genial. So 
well established was the kindliness of his disposition, that 
he was styled ‘‘the little boys’ friend.” He readily 
divined Tom’s ideas with regard to “ making a boy, a real 
boy,” out of Percy, and in pursuance of this, he set to 
work actively at showing Percy how to use his arm in 
throwing. 

A half-hour s practice, and, under the dexterous tuition 
of Tom and John, Percy succeeded in so directing the ball’s 
path as to make it comparatively safe for the prudent 
bystander. ^ 

“That’s enough for to-day,” said Tom at length. “To- 
morrow your arm will be stiff a little, but you needn’t 
mind that. It’s always the way till you get used to it.” 

The reader (who is doubtless “ a boy — a real boy ”) must 
liave felt in reading these pages, that Percy has said and 
done some very foolish things. Our little hero’s judge 
ment with regard to jumping, ball tossing, and school boy 
life in general must have appeared ridiculous even 
to the intelligence of a lad of seven. But imagine 
a man, say a fine musician, who, born blind and 
living in darkness for long, long years, has, on a 
sudden, his sight restored him. As a musician he would 
appear as rational as ever ; but as a gazer on the wonders 
of earth and starry sky, he would be as an infant, more 
carried away than a little toddler of five attending the 
Christmas pantomine for the first time. One unacquainted 
with his previous condition would take him for a madman. 
Percy’s case is somewhat similar. He was bright, clever, 
accomplished in matters where most young students are in 
utter darkness. But in practical knowledge of boys and 


36 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


boy life, he wns little more than an infant. Kverything 
about hirn was a .subject of fear or of wonder, of dismay 
or of delight. 

And so the day passed pleasantly ('iiough. Night came, 
and Percy, thoroughly wearied from his - unwonted 
exercise, fell into a profound slumber. 

He had been .sh eping for nearly two hours, when he was 
partially awakened by some one touchitig his feet. Turn- 
ing restlessly on his side, he was again about to drift into 
dreamland, when a low, blood-curdling groan brought 
him to his full senses. Raising his head on his arm, he 
looked about him . Just at the foot of the bed, a terrible 
figure met his view — a sheeted form, drai)ed in white. The 
eyes of the figure were hideous, some sort of a dim light 
playing about its face revealed the horrid black features. 

Have any of you, my dear readers, ever .seen a face 
under the influence of utter terror? The starting e>e- 
balls, the open mouth, the ashey pale countenance? Have 
you ever hoard the wild shriek of horror from the lips f»f 
one thoroughly terrified ? 

Richards, the ghost, expected all these things, and as 
Percy sat upright in his bed, gave another blood-curdling 
groan. 

A clear, silvery laugh was heard. 

Could his ears deceive him? Was the timid, girlish 
victim actually laughing? He groaned again. 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! O, my ! it’s as good as the circus. O, la ! 
what a guy !” 

Percy Wynn seated in his bed, was laughing most 
fnerrily, and clapping his hands in unaffected glee. 

But the disturbance awoke several near by, among them 


MAKmo A BOY OF HIM. 


37 


ILirry Quip, whose bed was beside Percy’s. Now, Harry was 
by no means so impressed with the fun of the thing as liis 
merry little neighbor. He perceived at once that some 
biutal fellow had l>een trying to frighten Percy. Without 
leremony, he jumped from his bed, seized the ghost, who 
by the way, contrary to the traditions of all ghosts was the 
most thoroughly frightened of the company, and with a 
vigorous grasp brought his ghostship to the floor. 

Although Charlie Richards had arranged himself with 
exceeding care for his assumed character, and even made 
such preparations as would enable him to slip back into his 
bed ere Percy’s scream of horror should have died away, 
ha had certainly not taken into consideration the possibility 
of being knocked down. In such event, a lighted candle, 
jilaced in the head-dress so as to throw a dismal glare upon 
the ghostly features, is a decided inconvenience. 

As the boy came violently to the floor, he gave a howl 
of pain and terror. 

“ Help! help!” he shouted, “I’m on fire.” 

His statement appeared to be true : the sheet was burn- 
ing. At once the dormitory, one moment before all buried 
in silence, awoke to a scene of wild confusion. Every one 
was awjike : every one wiis in motion. 

“Get some water” — “Wake Mr. Middleton ” — “Get a 
priest” — “ Fire ! Fire !” Such, and a thousand other like 
exclamations came from all sides. One timid little lad ran 
to the nearest window, and began calling wildly for the 
police, forgetting in his bewilderment that St. Maure’s 
village was a quarter of a mile distant, and that the only 
policeman it could boast was now, good old man, snug in 
bed. 


88 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


Many fell upon their knees, others still more panic- 
stricken made a mad rush for the stairs. Beside the door 
opening on the stair-case was Mr. Middleton’s bed. He 
was a sound sleeper, but very luckily for the limbs if not 
the lives of those who were attempting to escape, he awoke 
and sprang from his bed just in time to confront the fore- 
most in the wild rush. Mr. Middleton took in the situa- 
tion at once. He was a humane man, and rarely acted in 
haste. But on this occasion there was time neither for 
thought nor explanation. With a violent shove he sent 
the nearest fugitive sprawling on the floor. 

“ Back,” he shouted menacingly, “ back, every one of 
you !” 

The panic was reversed. All turned and fled from the 
door, and Mr. Middleton who had perceived the poor 
ghost’s predicament, snatched up a blanket, and hastened 
down the central aisle. 

But Tom Playfair had anticipated him. Eushing for- 
Avard with all his bedclothes, he threw himself upon the 
luckless ghost ; and with such energy did he give himself 
to the work, that he not only extinguished the incipient 
flames, but also was Avithin a little of suftbeating the 
object of his zeal. 

Eichard’s hair Avas badly singed, and part of his face was 
scorched. Still Avrapped in Tom’s bedclothes, he was 
literally bundled over to the infirmary. 

Order Avas soon restored : sleep, so kindly to youth, soon 
reasserted her pOAver, and the remaining hours ^ of the 
night passed as, quietly as though all the ghosts of the 
earth had been laid forever. 


CTIAPTEIl IV. 


IX WHICH PETERS AND PERCY HOLD A VERY ODD COX- 
VERSATION. 

It was the morninj^ following the ghost’s discomfiture. 
The students had nearly all deserted the washroom, when 
a sorry little figure, the picture of misery, came limping 
down the staircase. 

“O, Mr. Middleton, I’m awfully sick. I don’t know 
what’s the matter with me. Do I look bad, sir?” 

“ Well, Percy, your face looks the same as usual ; but 
you walk somewhat more stiffly. Where do you feel ill ?” 

“ O most ever}- where.” 

“ Did the ghost make you sick ?” 

“ O, is that what the poor boy intended to play ? I 
thought he just wanted to make me laugh: he did look so 
ridiculous. O, no indeedy — I beg your pardon — O, no 
indeed, he didn’t scare me one bit.” 

“ But where do you feel pain ?” 

“ My legs are so stiff I can hardly walk. Then my right 
arm aches dreadfully, and my shoulder-blade is sore, too.” 

“I know your trouble, Percy,” said Mr. Middleton 
breaking into a smile of relief. “You played more than 
usual yesterday, didn’t you?” 

“ O, yes, indeedy — I mean, yes sir. I never took so 
much exercise before in all my life.” 

“That’s it precisely. Your muscles have not been ac- 
customed to such strains. Yon’ll be all right, if you keep 


40 


PKPCY WYKN, OR 


quiet for a duy or two. This morning, yoTi are really too 
stiff to go about at all, so I’m going to allow you a late 
sleep. You mny go back to the dormitory now, and after 
breakfast. I’ll send Tom Playfair to awake you.” 

“0, thank you, sir. I’m so tired, I just feel as if I 
could sleep for a week. Mr. Middleton, do you think I 
am much like a girl ?” 

“ Well, in some respects you are.” The prefect was 
nigh overcome at this abrupt and singular question. 

“Ah ! I thought so,” said Percy, who seemed in no wise 
discouraged at this candid answer. “Tom Plavfair said 
the same thing, and he’s so honest. Mr. Middleton, do 
yon think it’s wrong to look like a girl ?” 

“Tho question never occurred to me in exactly that 
light before.” answered Mr. Middleton highly amused. 
“ Of course, if a person can’t help resembling a girl, I can’t 
blame him.” 

“Well, it’s not convenient. I think everybody looks at 
me as if I were a curiosity. Couldn’t you suggest some 
changes iii me, Mr. Middleton, to avoid being stared at. I 
hate to be stared at — don’t you?” 

“ I am not fond of it, certainly.” 

The prefect could not but opine that Percy’s long golden * 
hair helped much towards giving him a girlish appearance. 
Indeed, he was on the point of advising his questioner to 
deal himself of this feminine adornment, but he checked 
himself. 

“ The poor lad,” he reflected, “ might find it a bitter 
trial just now. Probably his mamma and sisters thought 
much, and made much of that head of golden hair, and 
Percy, with such memories fresh upon liim, m’ght consider 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


41 


loss deseci-ation. But if I say nothing at p’eseat, the 
idea will still probably occur to him at some better time.” 

The prefect’s decision was no less kind than judicious. 
He added aloud: 

“Well, Percy, the best advice I can give ypu is 
harden your muscles and strengthen your frame with 
plenty of out-door exercise. Take Tom Playfair for your 
guide in these matters, and very, very soon, people won't 
care in the least about staring at you. Now, go to bed. 
Same other time we’ll have a longer talk on the same sub- 
ject.” 

“ Thank you very much indeed, Mr. Middleton. Good 
bye, sir,” and with a most unsuccessful attempt at his neat 
little bow, Percy made his way up to the dormitory. 

In due time. Mass and studies over, Tom awoke him. 
After his second sleep, Percy found himself much better, 
but so stiff withal as’ to preclude all idea of his taking 
further exercise, at least for that day. 

“ As you like reading,” said Tom when Percy had 
finished his breakfast, “ I’d advise you to read. Sit down 
on some bench, and take it easy. I’ll come round now and 
then, to see that you’re all right.” 

“You mustn’t trouble yourself about meat all, Tom. 
I’m just as happy as can be, when I’ve a book to my 
liking. And I’ve got something splendid ijow — Dion and 
the Sibyls. Mamma says it is, perhaps, the best Catholic 
novel ever written in the English language.” 

“ Well, read away,” said Tom. “ I wish I liked reading 
as well as you. Most books make me, weary. I haven’t 
read hardly anything except The Miser and The Poor 
Gentleman, and a few short stories.” And Tom almost 


42 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


sighing at his want of taste in literary matters, tripped 
away to fulfil an engagement at the handball alley, leaving 
Percy seated contentedly on a bench in the delightful com- 
pany of his cherished volume. 

But he was not long undisturbed. Martin Peters, the 
accomplice of Kichards in the unsuccessful apparition of 
the night, had puzzled much over Percy’s character. He 
had never met, never imagined such a boy. He had seen 
Percy blush and tremble iu the face of an impudent ques- 
tion, he had noted his alarm at the prospect of vaulting 
over Tom Playfair, and he had contemplated with no little 
glee his fear and anxiety on hitting John Donnel with the 
ball. All these traits had led him to believe that Percy 
was a coward. Hence he had confidently and jubilantly 
counted on Percy’s going almost into hysterics at the sight 
of Eichards in his spectre-attire. But Percy’s laughter 
and glee upon confronting the spirit, had dashed all his 
theories. Could it be that the girlish lad was not a 
coward ? Impossible ! What then might be the explana- 
tion of his seeming bravery ? Perhaps, Peters reflected, 
he had been fore-warned perhaps even he had overheard 
^^^mself and Richards discussing their plans. Peters was 
a wily lad — a young Ulysses — and he determined to 
explore to its depths the mystery of Percy’s courage. 

“Good morning, Wynn,” he began, seating himself 
beside the odd Baltimore boy, and trying to smile 
pleasantly, “ you’re having a read, I see.” 

Percy closed his volume. 

“ Yes : I’ve a nice book. It’s Dion and the Sibyls. 
Have you read it ?” 

“ No,” said Peters. 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


43 


“ Oh ! you ought to. It’s delicious. Some of the scenes 
re described so nicely that you would think you were on 
the spot, witnessing everything yourself. Aren’t you fond 
of fine descriptions ?” 

“ I like them well enough,’.’ said Peters, who, as a matter 
of fact, had never given the subject a moment’s thought. 
‘‘ But .see here, Wynn, I came to talk about something 
else. I heard you saw a ghost last night.” 

Percy broke into a musical laugh. 

“ O, dear no : it was one the boys who wanted to have a 
little fun. He did make me laugh, and I’m really sorry 
he got hurt. I’m sure he meant no harm.” 

“ Don’t you think hi wanted to frighten you ?” queried 
Peters, much astounded at this simple view of the case. 

“ Surely not,”- said Percy. “ It is extremely cruel and 
unkind to attempt to scare a person badly, and I don’t 
believe Eichards would think of such a thing. He has a 
kind face. Tom Playfair says boys are just as good as 
girls. Now girls wouldn’t act that way. My sisters never 
did anything mean, though they used to play jokes on me 
too. One time, sister Mary, who is the greatest j oker of 
them all, told me to go to my room and put on my new 
shoes. When I tried to get them on, I found a pair of 
gloves, one in each. It was a splendid joke, and we all 
enjoyed it very much.” 

Peters was not accustomed to this kind of conversation, 
nor were his faculties of wit and humor capable of appre- 
ci»ting a joke so innocent. He was disgusted. The boy, 
he thought, must be a simpleton. 

“ Well, but weren’t you scared last night ?” 

“ No indeedy — I mean, not at all. Why should I ?” 


44 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


“ Aren’t you afraid of ghosts ?” 

“ O, dear, no,” laughed Percy throwing hack his hair 
and shaking his head. “ Ghosts don’t bother people. 
Why, when I lie awake in my bed at night, I never think 
of ghosts. But I do think of angels.” 

“You do?” said Peters dubiously. 

“ Yes indeedy,” answered Percy warming to his subject. 
“ And I think there’s more sense in it. We know from 
our religion that we’ve each a guardian angel. But we 
don’t know for certain that there are any ghosts around 
us. Besides, I’d rather see an angel than a ghost. There’s 
only one thing would prevent me from wishing to see my 
angel.” 

“ What’s that ?” 'asked the muddled Ulysses, realizing 
more and more that he was beyond his depth. 

“Sin!” exclaimed Percy with great emphasis, “mortal 
sin ! If I were to do anything very bad, then I would 
fear meeting my angel’s face of reproach. But, oh ! how 
glad I’d be to see him if I were good. The angels must be 
very beautiful, don’t you think so, sir ?” 

“ O, I suppose,” answered Peters irresolutely. 

“Yes, indeedy — I mean surely. One of the nicest books 
I ever read was Father Faber’s ‘ Tales of the Angels.’ 
Did you ever read it ?” 

“ No,” said Peters, more and more confounded. 

“ 0, you must. I’ve got it with me in my trunk; and 
I’ll lend it to you. The stories are so sweet, Would you 
like to read it? It’s much better than reading about 
ghosts. Mamma told me never to think of ugly or dis- 
agreeable thoughts after my night prayers, but always of 
God or the Angels. Don’t you think that’s a splendid 


MAKING A BOY OP HIM. 


45 


idea?” 

“ Yes, I guess so,” Peters made answer as he shambled 
off. 

Poor Peters ! the pretty thoughts which Percy had just 
communicated to him v. ere very absurd in his eyes. The 
idea of talking about angels ! He departed convinced that 
Percy was little more than a simpleton. Yet, do not sup- 
pose, my dear reader, that Percy’s words were utterly 
thrown away. Peters departed knowing more of Angels, 
knowing more of beauty than he had ever known before. 
Perhaps in years to come, in time of sore distress, or upon 
his death-bed — God only knows when and where — these 
pretty words of Percy’s may again awake in Peters’ heart, 
these pretty words may do much towards raising his soul 
from foulness and sin to the beautiful Angels, from the 
beautiful Angels to the beautiful Queen of the Angels, and 
from the beautiful Queen of the Angels to the All-beauti- 
ful God. 

Good words from pure, innocent hearts are never lost : 
they are the seeds of rare flowers whose blossom we shall 
behold beyond the grave. 


CHAPIER V. 


IN WHICH PERCY GOES A-FISHIMG. 

It was Thursday morning, a full recreation day. Percy J 
had now recovered from his stiffness, and, according to | 
agreement, was about to start for the “lakes” on a day’s ^ 
fishing excursion. ] 

Promptly after breakfast, John Donnel, George Keenan, 
John’s inseparable friend and class-mate, Harry, Tom, 
Percy, Willie and Joe briskly issued from the College 
grounds, and set forward westward along the rail road 
track. ^ • 

“O, what a glorious morning,” cried Keenan, taking in 
a full breath, “ it makes one feel poetical.” 

Now George was a member of the Poetry class. 

“.Yes, indeedy — I mean O, yes,” chimed in Percy. 

‘ Full many a glorious morning have I seen 
Flatter the mountain top with sovereign eye ’ ” 

“ See here, you young prodigy,” said Donnel, “ where’s 
your mountain top?” 

“ O, nowhere in particular. This Kansas country is all 
little hills. But the lines came to my head when George 
said ‘glorious morning,’ and I couldn’t help saying them. 
Anyhow just look at the village-roofs dancing in the light 
of the sun.” 

“ As Tennyson says in his famous lyric on St. Maure 
at Sunrise,” George gravely remarked. 


IVIAKING A BOY OB HIM. 


47 


*' The spleudor falls ou college walls, 

And village rooftops new in story, 

The long light shakes across our lakes 
And the gay college lad leaps in glory, 

Blow, Kansas, blow, set the high chimnies flying 
Blow, cyclones, answer breezes, sighing, sighing, sighing.” 

"‘Are you sure, George, that Tennyson wrote that?” 
asked Percy gravely. 

“ Well, to tell the truth,” said George laughing, ^‘it’s a 
joint composition. Tennyson and I did it together. He 
furnished the general outline, and I introduced a few 
details.” 

“O, I see now!” said Percy brightening. “It’s a 
parody.” 

“Just so,” said Keenan. 

“ But isn’t it a beautiful morning ! continued Percy. 
“ So calm and bright. I like the sunshine and the pure 
air — don’t you, Tom ?” 

“ Well, I reckon I do,” answered Tom, who was still 
puzzling over Percy’s Shakespearian quotation. Tom was 
by no means an introspective youth. He took the air and 
the sunshine for granted. He did enjoy them, but was not 
in the habit of asking himself why. 

“ By the way,” Percy resumed, how far are these lakes 
from the college 

“ Four miles by the rail road,” Harry made answer. 

“ O, la I” almost screamed Percy, “I must go back.” 

“Why,” “Why,” “What’s the matter?” — cried every- 
body. 

“ It would kill me to walk four miles. I never walked 
more than a mile in my life. O, dear, I’m so sorry, be- 
cause I counted on having such a nice time.” 


48 


PERCY WYNX, OR 


Percy deliberately sat down. 

“ Nonsense !” said sturdy Tom. “ You don’t know what 
you can do, till you try.” 

“ O, it’s quite out of the question,” said Percy, shaking 
his golden locks with decision. “I really couldn’t think 
of such a thing.” 

“ See here, you wretched little sloth, you crab-fish, you 
turtle,” said John D onnel in good-humoured indignation, 
“ do you know what I’ll think of you, if you don’t get up 
and come on ?” 

“Nothing bad, I hope,” said Percy anxiously. 

“ I’ll think you’re a goose.” 

“ Will you?” said poof Percy in dismay. 

“ I certainly will.” 

“I wouldn’t like you to think me a goose, John.” 

“ I’ll think you one too,” said Keenan. 

“ And I — and I — and I,” volleyed the others. 

“ But I’d rather be a goose with two sound legs than a 
cripple,” said Percy argumentatively. 

“O, come on,” said Tom. “If you get tired out, John 
and George will brace you up. They’re strong enough to 
carry you two miles without stopping.” 

“ Well, I — I’ll go. But you mustn’t get vexed with 
me, if I give out.” 

All protested that the event of his losing power of 
locomotion would give no offense — none in the least, and 
so Percy taking heart arose and moved forward. 

Presently Tom remarked. 

“ Percy, you’re going to break your record now.” 

“ How’s that, Tom ?” 

^‘See that milestone? you’ve already walked a mile, and 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


49 


are now beginning your second.” 

“ You don’t say !” cried Percy in great delight. “ And 
really, I’m not tired one bit.” 

\Vii3n th3y had gained the next mile-stone, in deference 
to Percy a halt was declared. But that young enthusiast 
protested that he felt able to walk forever, and it was only 
after some discussion, clinched by physical violence from 
Master Tom, that he could be induced to sit down. 

“ You were right, John,” said Percy. I a goose. 

I am beginning to think that I’m dreadfully silly.” 

“ Oh ! you’re learning fast enough,” said John encourag- 
ingly. 

“ Tell us another story, Percy,” suggested Harry. 

I would if we intended to stay more than a few 
minutes.” 

“ Well, then, sing us a song,” Tom put in. 

“ Hear, hear,” cried the two poets. 

Percy smiled, threw back his hair, hummed for a 
moment to himself, then in a clear, sweet voice sang — 

“ C, I’ll sing to-night of a beautiful land 
In the lap of the ocean set,” etc. 

As he began, all listened in wonder and admiration. It 
was not so much that his voice was rich, sweet, and clear ; 
not so much that the wording of the poem was beautiful in 
itself, and the melody extremely pathetic, what gave it a 
nameless charm was the wondrous feeling with which he 
sang. The sadness of the exile breathed in every strain, 
the tears of the patriot gazing upon his country’s ruins 
trembled in every note. Music and feeling and love and 
innocence had joined hands. To all present, the song was 
a revelation. Aihong the young singers of St. Maure’s 


50 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


many had rich, many had sweet voices, bin none of them 
enjoyed that rare gift of wedding feeling to music. They 
sang like the little birds — blithely, gaily. But here was a 
child who could quicken a strain with a beautiful sensitive 
soul. 

When he had finished, Keenan whose eyes were 
suspiciously dimmed, grasped his hand. 

“ I’m of German descent myself,” he said, “ and I believe 
there’s a little English in me too. But there’s not a 
greater Irishman on the globe today than I am.” 

‘‘ Percy,” said Tom, “ I’d give up all I know about base- 
ball to be able to do that.” 

“ Sister Jane taught me,” said Percy modestly. “ I’m 
very glad you all liked it so much. I know lots of songs, 
and whenever you like it. I’ll be delighted to sing.” 

Percy was, in truth, gratified : his greatest pleasure — a 
noble trait — was to give pleasure to others. 

When the boys resumed their way nearly all of them 
were thinking of a beautiful land with beautiful rivers, but 
devastated by the cruel hand of pitiless, grasping tyranny. 
Action and reaction were taking their course. Percy 
developed them from within, they developed him from 
without. Percy was enlarging his muscles, they, their 
feelings. Under cover of his dainty efieminate ways, he 
had since his arrival been unconsciously communicating 
new and pretty thoughts to his kind playfellows, while 
they consciously and visibly had ’given him practical 
knowledge of true boyhood. To know him, Tom might 
have said using the well-known saying was a liberal educa- 
tion. 

In the course of an hour the lake was gained. A snug 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


spot where the trees threw their shade far into the water 
was selected and occupied as the party’s fishing grounds ; 
forthwith Tom presented Percy with a fishing line all 
complete, and produced a worm from the common bait- 
can. 

Percy took the wriggling creature charily enough, held 
it for a moment, and then with a shriek let it fall from his 
hand. 

“ O, dear, O, dear ! what’ll I do ?” 

“ You might pick it up,” said the unsympathetic Tom. 
“ It won’t hurt you, it doesn’t bite.” 

Percy, after many unsuccessful eftorts at length re- 
covered his wriggling worm, and repressing a desire to 
shiver, endeavored to impale it upon his hook. But the 
more he tried, the more the “ conqueror worm ” wriggled. 

“Lie quiet, you nasty thing !” he ejaculated. 

But Tom here came to his relief. 

“It’s easy enough to stop his squirming. I’ll show you 
another trick, Percy.” 

Taking the obstinate worm in one hand, he gave it a 
vigorous slap with the other. The worm no longer 
wriggled, and Percy, naturally skillful of finger, easily 
baited his hook. ' 

“ Now,” said Tom, “ there’s two kinds of fish here, — 
small fish such as perch, sunfish, and large fish, which are 
all mostly mudcat. The mudcats are harder to manage — 
they’ve got mouths like stable doors, and get the hook way 
down near their tail and seem to think it good eating.” 

“ Yes,” Quip chimed in, “and they’re awfully insulted 
when you try to get it out.” 

“ And if they get a chance, they’ll stick you with their 


52 


PEECY WYNN, OE 


fins,” said Whyte. 

“ O, gracious! I don’t want to catch catfish,” said Percy. 

“You needn’t try,” said Tom, “'and likely you won’t. 
They keep out in the deep water, so to begin with, I’d 
advise you to throw in near shore ; and you’ll catch a perch. 
Try by that log over there, just sticking out of the water.” 

Percy followed these directions accurately. Hardly had 
his cork come to a firm stand on the face of the water 
when it began to jerk about in a most unsteady way. 

Tom was entirely intent on arranging his own line. 

“ O, look at my cork, Tom 1 What’s the matter with it?” 

“ It’s drunk,” said that worthy without looking up. 

“ Don’t be ridiculous, Tom ; but please look.” 

“You’ve got a nibble, Percy ?” 

“ A what ?” - 

“ A nibble. There’s a fish holding an inquest on your 
worm.” And Tom with a vigorous cast sent his line 
thirty feet or more into the water. 

“ Say, Tom!” 

“ Well — go on and say it.” 

“ I — I think my cork is lost — I can’t see it at all.” 

“ Pull in,” Tom exclaimed with all the excitement of an 
enthusiast, “always pull in when your cork goes under, 
there’s a fish on it sure.” 

Perhaps Percy had a vague impression that it was a 
whale or some huge monster of the deep ; perhaps he was 
merely in a high state of excitement : at any rate he 
communicated a tremendous jerk to his line. Up flew his 
hook, with a tiny and much surprised fish on it, up, up 
into the branches of the tree under which they were 
stationed. 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 53 

The poor little fish fioundered helplessly ; and with each 
struggle he entangled himself the worse. It was a question 
which was more perplexed, Percy or the tiny perch. 

“ Come down, little fishy,” said Percy coaxingly, O, 
do!” 

Probably little fishy was as anxious to “come down ” as 
was his captor, 

“ Put some salt on little fishy’s tail,” said Quip in a tone 
of concern. 

“Are you in earnest?” asked Percy doubtfully. 

“ He’s talking nonsense,” said Donnel, straining every 
muscle to keep a straight face. “ I’ll tell you what you 
might do, Percy. Go to the nearest farm-house and bor- 
row an axe. You can cut the tree down, and then you’ve 
got your fish.” 

“ O, dear,” said Percy, “ I never used an axe in all my 
life.” 

“You ought to learn then,” Keenan put in. “Glad- 
stone spends a great deal'of his time felling trees.” 

“ O, what shall I do ?” cried the young fisherman. “ Do 
you think he will come down, John ?” 

“ I’m sure he’d like to, if he only knew how. But he 
doesn’t. Are you good at handling tangles ?” 

“ I think so,” was Percy’s modest answer. “ I used to 
help sister Kate with her cotton-balls, and skeins.” 

“Well, up you go, then,” said the stout John. He 
caught Percy from the ground in his arms, then securing 
a sure hold on his high shoes raised him into the air. 

Two days before, Percy would have screamed with dis- 
may. Now, however, the leap-frog experience stood him 
in good stead, and^ so with scarcely a tremor, he caught 


51 


PERCY WYXN, OR 


the branch and very deftly extricated the entangled line 
and the struggling fish. 

“ O, John/’ he said as the good-natured poet lowered 
him to the ground, “ you’re a perfect Hercules. Thank 
you ever so much. But how do you get this fish off?” 

“ See!” said John . “ You catch him firmly round the 

head this way — now he can’t slip. Then you push the 
hook smartly back, and pull’ it out so.” John accom- 
panied these lucid directions with pra(;tical exam})le.f 

“Sh!” whispered Tom suddenly, “ I’ve a splendid bite. 
Just look at my cork, will you ?” 

His float was indeed acting strangely. Instead of 
bobbing up and down, or giving a series of queer little 
jerks, or sinking altogether, as a float generally does when 
under the influence of a fish-bite, it was moving steadily 
along the face of the water out from the land. Tommy’s 
pole was adorned with a reel, to afford the innocent victim 
more play, he gave out ten or twelve feet of line, and in 
great excitement dashed his hat to the ground. Still 
moved the cork steadily on — no jerking, no passing dis- 
appearance ; it was as slow and regular in its phlegmatic 
onward movement as a policeman. 

All the boys, forgetting their proper lines, were gazing 
with breathless attention. 

“ It’s the funiest bite I ever saw,” said Keenan. 

It’s not a catfish, sure,” added Donnel positively. 

“What’ll I do?” whispered Tom giving out more line, 

“ Why on earth doesn’t the fish take it or leave it?” It’s 
the worst fool of a fish I know of. I’ll bet that fish hasn’t 
sense enough to come in out of the rain. Will that cork 
ever stop moving out ?” 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


55 


Look, look ! criod Rutliers in an oxcited whisper. 
“ The cork is beginning to move in a circle.” 

Sure enough the bobbin had changed its direction. For 
a moment its course had an air of hesitancy, than of a 
sudden it proceeded to come straight in towards the land. 

“ That fish is a lunatic !” said Quip severely. 

“ May be it’s no fish at all,” suggested White taking a 
larger view' of the matter. 

“ Perhaps it’s a horrid sjiake,” volunteered Percy, who 
looked as though he w^ere prepared to take to his heels. 

“ Steady, Tom, bring in all the line you don’t need,” 
advised Keenan, “ if you give too much of a slack your 
game may smash the whole thing with a running jerk.” 

“Boys,” said Tom after reeling in his line some twenty 
feet, “ Pm going to pull .in. If that fish hasn’t got sense 
enough to act like any ordinary decent fish, and take a 
good square bite, I can’t afford to lose my time fooling 
wu'th it.” 

Tom gave his rod a tremendous and rapid upw'ard jerk. 
Neither fish nor line came flying from the water. His rod 
simply bent almost double, and indeed threatened to 
break. 

“I knew it,” said Tom, sighing and releasing the strain 
on it. “I’m caught fast on a log.” 

“ No, you’re not,” bawled Keenan forgetting the orthodox 
fisherman’s whisper in his extreme excitement. “ For 
goodness sake, just look at your cork now'.” 

There never was a bobbin known to act so curiously. It 
was again moving straight out, but so swdftly, that to 
Tom’s excited imagination it seemed to be making a good 
forty miles an hour. In the moment of w'atching, even 


53 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


his rdd\ giv3 a;i i.iip itieiit ;n )ve.n3iit as if it cbsired to be 
free. Tom let it go and otf flew the line headed by the 
cork which seemed to be gaining in liveliness every instant. 

“ The cork is crazy,” said Whyte. 

“ It’s bewitched, maybe,” cried Ruthers. 

‘‘ Catch the cork, Tom, and put some salt on its tail.” 
This exquisite advice came from none other than Rercy. 
The little lad Wiis so frightened and at the same time so 
excited, that in the exhilaration produced by the blending 
of these feelings, he made the absurdest and most unlooked 
for remark we have yet recorded as coming from him. 

Suddenly the float came to a rest. Everybody held his 
breath. Then it stood up straight in the water, and began 
slowly, slowly to go down. 

“ He’s getting there,” said Quip parenthetically, and 
referring, of course, not to Tom but to the fish. 

The last trace of the fleat was concealed by the water. 

‘‘ Now pull,” cried John. 

Tom steadily and sturdily set about following this 
advice, but the something at the other end was pulling too. 
For a moment the contest seemed equal. Then a shout of 
exultation broke from Tom as the line began slowly to 
yield. 

“It’s a whale or a shark,” he muttered earnestly. 

“ Perhaps it’s the ghost of a water-logged Indian canoe,” 
volunteered Keenan, who like many boys under the first 
glad influence of poetic study, was seeking to develop his 
imagination at the expense of his friends. 

“ You might as well say it’s the ghost of a shoe-factory,” 
answered matter-of-fact Tom indignantly. 

Nearer and nearer came the end of the line. The water- 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


57 


hidden object of these speculations was acting very 
curiously indeed. No jerking, no running away with the 
line, no leaping three or four feet out of the water after 
the manner of a game fish, no “ sulking ’’ — simply a strong 
steady resistance. 

“ My opinion is, it’s a mule,” said Quip solemnly. 

“ It must be a big log,” said Keenan. “ No game fish, 
not even a pumpkin seed would conduct himself in that 
shabby manner. But keep on.” 

Tom needed no encouragement. Presentlv the cork ap- 
peared for a moment, but only to disappear again. The 
captive was now getting into shallow water. 

“ I see it,” shouted Ruthers. 

“ Can you see its ears ?” asked Quip, consistent to his 
theory. 

“ It isn’t a mule at alh It looks like a log.” 

• “ I see it too,” cried Whyte a moment later. “ It’s 
round like a shield.” 

“My goodness, Tom,” continued Ruthers, “ I believe it’s 
a turtle, but I never saw one so large before.” 

The last surmise was correct. An ugly, black, head 
with wide open mouth, appeared above the water, followed 
soon after by a huge back fully eighteen inches in cir- 
cumference. 

“ It’s a snapping-turtle,” said Donnel, “ and the biggest 
one I ever saw.” 

The creature was now in very shallow water, and with 
his feet more strongly braced made prodigious efforts to 
escape. Donnel lent Tom a hand, and the King of the 
Lakes (we thank Keenan for this epithet) was soon landed. 

But the struggle was not yet over. No sooner did he 


58 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


touch solid earth than he-seemed to regain all his energies. 
He opened and shut his jaws with a vicious snap, accom- 
panied this action with an angry hissing sound, and vainly 
tugged with his ugly forepaws at the hook fastened in his 
mouth. Tommy keeping the line taut drew near^him: 
the turtle faced his captor boldly. 

•‘Take care, Tom, he looks vicious,” said Keenan. 
“ Better kill him before you get too near him.” 

“Yes, but that’s easier said than done.” 

A 

“ Look out boys — clear the track,” said Donnel. ap- 
proaching with Tom’s guess. 

He took his stand over the turtle, and sent a charge into 
the creature which put an end to its ineffectual struggles. 

“It weighs, I should judge, nearly fifty pounds,’’ said 
Donnel. 

“It’s a great catch,” added Keenan. “ But snapping 
turtles are no use for eating.” 

“ Where’s Percy ?” cried Tom looking around as he rose 
with the freed hook. 

Percy was nowhere to be seen. 


CHAPTER. VI. 


IN WHICH PERCY TAKES HIS FIRST LESSONS IN SWIMMING 
AND ROWING. 

“ Percy, Percy,” cri6d all. 

“ Here I am, boys,” came a tremulous voice from above. 

On raising their eyes', they were startled to discover 
M ister Percy full fifteen feet from the ground, straddling 
the branch of a tree. 

“ How in the woi Id did you get up there ? ” cried Harry. 

Really, I don’t know; I wasn’t aware I could climb a 
tree at all. But the fact is when that horrid turtle 
touched land, — the nasty thing ! — I found I could do al- 
most anything.” 

The boys who had been thus far gazing in astonishment 
upon Percy, now broke into a round, hearty laugh. 
Percy’s confession .was charmingly candid. 

“ It’s all very well to laugh,” said Percy quite gravely, 
“but really my position is not at all comic. How am I 
going to get down ? O, if my mamma were to see me, 
she’d faint!” 

“ One way would be — to climb down,” suggested Tom 
dryly, and with the air of imparting valuable information. 

“ If you could wait for a while,” Quip put in, “ I’ll go 
and borrow an axe and bring you and tree and everything 
safe to the ground.” 

Percy’s face gave no evidence of gratification at these 
wise proposals. 

“ Don’t you think you could procure a ladder ?” he 
asked anxiously. ^ 


60 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


This novel plan evoked a fresh burst of laughter. 

“ 0, dear, dear !” he groaned, “ I was never in such an 
awkward plight in all my life.” And his expressive lips 
begin to quiver, and his eyes to grow dim. 

John Donnel could not see a fellow creature in pain. 
The pathetic little face, now looking down upon him in 
deep dismay, was too much for the big-hearted champion 
of the small-yard. 

“ You’re all right, Percy,” he said, “just do what I tell 
you, and you’ll be with us on terra firma without any more 
trouble than it would take you to walk down a flight of 
steps. Simply place your feet on that branch below, and 
I’ll attend to the rest. 

Percy brightened at once — he had great confidence in 
John — and obeyed with alacrity. 

“ Now put your hands where your feet are and let your 
feet drop. There you’re right as a trivet.” And John as 
he spoke caught Percy around the ankles, and brought him 
gently to the ground. 

“ I’m not much of a boy,” said Percy humbly, “ but 
I’ll do better next time I see a snapping-turtle — I’ll run 
away.” 

Fishing was now resumed in good earnest. Within an 
hour the party had caught a dozen large catfish, varying 
in weight from twelve ounces to a pound and a half, to 
the general mess, Percy contributed eight small perch. 

“ Well,” said Tom, looking at his watch, “ It’s about 
time for a swim.” 

“ You don’t mean to think of swimming here !” Percy 
exclaimed. 


“ Why not ?” asked Tom. 


MAKING A BOY OP HIM. 61 

The turtles might snap at your legs. Ugh !” And 
Percy shivered. 

“No danger of that at all, Percy,” remarked Keenan. 

Turtles don’t go in much for boys legs. They act cn the 
principle, ‘ live and let live.’ ” 

“You’re coming in too, Percy,” added Tom as though 
there were no choice in the matter. 

“ I ! no indeedy — no I wont !” 

“ But look,” said Tom impressively, and he produced 
from one of the baskets a pair of swimming-tights. 
“ Here’s a little present for you Percy.” 

Instead of receiving it, Percy put his hands behind him, 
and backed away from the gift with a countenance expres- 
sive of anything but gratification. 

“ Well,” said Tom in disgust, “ is that the way you 
receive a present?” 

Upon this Percy, with whom politeness was almost an 
instinct, brought his face with a strong effort into a smile 
of gratitude. He advanced, and with a slight bow ac- 
cepted the gift. 

/ O, thank you, Tom : they’re ever so nice. Really,” he 
continued holding them up, and examining them with an 
approving eye, “they are quite beautiful. The stripes 
are nicer than a zebra’s. I’ll keep them in my desk at the 
college, Tom ; and whenever I look at them. I’ll think of 
you.” 

This novel method of propossng to use a pair of swim- 
ming-tights did not suit Tom at all. 

“ Nonsense, Percy, they’re not my photograph. I want 
you to use them. 'Swimming isn’t so hard. It’s much 
easier to swim than to climb a tree.” 


G2 


PERCY WYNIT, OR 


PiTjy, it his alrea-iy bseii observed, was most pleased in 
pleidii,^ dthers. He saw that Tom was bent on his making 
a trial at swimming, and so despite his fear of snap- 
ping-tnrtles, he submitted with the best graee possible. 

Encouraged by Tom, he actually spent half an hour in 
the water, and was quite brave in his attempts to swim. 

Percy had scarcely donned his garments, when on turn- 
ing his eyes out upon the lake, a cry of joy broke from his 
lips. A small rowboat steered by Quip and rowed by 
Keenan was making straight for the shore. 

“ O, do let me in with you, George.” 

“ What? go in a boat,” said Tom banteringly. “ Boats 
are dangerous. They upset so easily, you know,” 

“La! Pm not afraid,” rejoined the reckless Percy. “I 
want to learn how to row.” 

“Jump in,” said Keenan, as the boat’s keel grated on 
tiie shore. 

Percy took a seat along with George who was in the 
middle. 

“ Now, shove her off, Tom,” said Quip. 

Tom complied, and the boat shot out from the shore. 

“ Let me take an oar George, I want to learn.” 

“ I’ll let you have both in a minute, Percy,” George 
made answer : “ but to begin with you may try your hand 
at one. Now the very first thing you’ve got to learn is to 
keep stroke.” 

“ Keep stroke ? what with ?” 

“ With your little hatchet, of course,” remarked the 
grinning steersman parenthetically. 

“ Don’t mind that Quip — you keep stroke with your oar. 
The idea of keeping stroke is to draw back your oar, put it 


a 

MAKING Ar BOY OF HIM. 63 

into the water and pull at exactly the same time as I do it. 
The next thing you’ll learn after that, I suppose, will be 
to catch a crab.” 

“ Is it easy to catch a crab ?” Percy innocently asked, as 
he made his first stroke. 

“ Easy as rolling off a log,” interposed the irrepressible 
Quip, “ and much in the same style too.” 

“How is it done ?” Percy continued as he bent back in 
making his third stroke. 

“ It comes natural,” answered Quip between hursts of 
laughter. “You needn’t try at all. You’ll get there be> 
fore you know it. You’re sure to learn.” 

In taking his sixth stroke, Percy failed to dip his oar in 
the water, and suddenly toppled over backw^ards, his head, 
luckily for him, being caught by Harry Quip, who had 
been preparing for such an emergency, and his heells 
describing a series of rapid and irregular curves in the air. 

“ You’ve learnt it, you’ve learnt it,” shouted Quip, 
wdiile George rested on his oar to indulge in a laugh. 
“That’s just it, that’s catching a crab. Now that you 
know it, you needn’t practise it any more.” 

“ Yes,” said Keenan helping Percy to his former posi- 
tion : “ the practical application of knowing how to catch a 
crab consists in not doing it any more.” 

Percy merrily laughing at his mishap readjusted his cap, 
threw back his hair, and again set bravely to work with 
his oar. Considering that this was his first experience in a 
row-boat, he really acquitted himself wdth credit, and 
unconsciously he took his revenge on Harry Quip for his 
raillery. Like all beginners, Percy splashed the water in 
every direction, and once when Harry had broken into a 


61 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


most hearty cough at the beginner’s awkwardness. Percy 
quite accidentally sent a pint or so of water flying into 
that young gentleman’s wide-open mouth. The laugh was 
put out as though it had been a small conflagration. 

When they sat down for dinner at one o’clock that 
afternoon, Donnel observed that Percy had developed a 
very pretty red rose on either cheek. 

“It came from exercise,” Keenan explained. 

“ And from becoming a boy,” added Tom. 

“Yes,” cried Percy, “that’s just it. I’d rather be a boy 
than anything I know of. And O, I’m so hungry, I never 
had such an appetite as far back as I can remember.” 

“ Swimming always makes one hungry, and good hooking 
helps,” said Harry Quip, who, having prepared the fish 
with great success, no»v strutted about bravely in a white 
apron, and with intense satisfaction \vatched the eatable 
disappear. 

The afternoon passed happily ; fish were caught in 
abundance. The homeward walk, too, was delightful. 
Percy kept up his high spirits to the end, and made the 
way pleasant with song, strange to say he gave no sign of 
weariness. 

“Well,” he said, as they neared the college, “ I’ll have 
a grand letter to write to mamma, and sister Mary. I’ll 
tell them that I’ve learned to play leap-frog, to throw 
straight, to catch fish, to row a boat, to not catch a crab 
and to swim on my back.” 

“ They wont believe it all,” said Donnel. 

“ O, yes, they will,” answered Percy. “ They ahvays 
believe whatever I say.” 

“ There’s one thing you’re leaving out, Percy,” said Tom 


I 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 65 

soberly, “ and it’s the most important thing of the whole 
lot.” 

“ What’s that, Tom ?” 

“ Tell your mamma you’ve learned how to climb a tree.” 


I 


CHAPTER VIL 

llf WHICH PERCY, MAKING WAY FOR THE HEAVY VILLAINS 
OF OUR STORY, DOES NOT APPEAR. 

There was trouble brewing in the small yard. It came 
about in this wise. 

About two weeks after the events narrated in our last 
chapter, Charlie Richards was endeavoring as best he ‘ 
might to enjoy the full holiday which the President of the 
college had given the students in honor of some local event* 
Accompanied by several of his companions, he had been 
moving restlessly seeking for some amusement sufficiently 
exciting to raise his depressed spirits. Owing to previous 
mis-conduct, and especially to his cruel but unsuccessful 
attempt at playing ghost, he was not allowed to leave the 
premises ; this privilege being given on recreation days to 
thosfe only whose general deportment afforded some as- 
surance of their being trustworthy. But he was not alone 
in his enforced confinement. Nearly all of his chosen 
companions were under the same ban. 

In the course of their loitering here and there in the 
yard, they happened to come upon the wash-room. This 
apartment, except at certain appointed times during the 
day, was kept under lock and key. Now, however, the 
door proved to be open. This fact aroused their curiosity. 
They entered. The only occupant was a slight child, who 
was engaged blacking his shoes. His face, as Richards 
with his following made entrance, took on a look of dismay. 

“ O, please don’t come in, boys,” he said. . “ I forgot all 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


67 


about it. But Mr. Kane [He was the associate prefect 
with Mr. Middleton] told me to be sure and lock the door, 
and let no one in. It’s all my fault ; and, if anything 
happens wrong, he’ll blame me.” 

“ O, it’s you. Granger, is it?” remarked Richards, ignor- 
ing his request. “ You ought to be out walking, you’re 
one of the good boys. What are you d©ing here ?” 

“I’m just getting ready to go up town to. meet my 
mother at the station. She’s expected to come on the ten 
o’clock train.” 

Richards was in bad humor, and being in bad humor, 
the spirit of rebellion was stirring in his heart. He felt 
strongly inclined to do something contrary to rule. 

“ Well, clear out. Granger,” he said. “ I guess we can 
run this wash-room for a while.” 

“O, but I can’t do that, Richards,” answered poor 
Granger, who had a delicate conscience. “ I must lock up 
the wash-room, and give the key back to Mr. Kane.” 

“Must you indeed? You won’t do any such thing. 
Come now, clear out. Do you hear ?” 

“ Weil,” said the little fellow summoning all his resolu- 
tion. “ I’m going to do what I’m told. If you want to 
stay here, all right ; but I’ve got to go now, and I’m going 
to lock the door after me. If you stay here. I’ll have to 
lock you all in.” 

“ Indeed ! you’ll do nothing of the sort.” 

“Say, Richards,” suggested John Sommers, “suppose 
we go out, and lock him in. 

Willie Granger, trembling, but firm, walked as far as the 
door, and took the key from his pocket. With unsteady 
fingers he inserted it in the lock. 


68 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


“Well, aren’t you coming out?” he asked timidly. 

By way of answer, Kichards rudely pushed the child 
aside, hurriedly took the key from the lock, and thrust it 
into his pocket. 

His companions were already making themselves at 
home in the conquered territory. They were throwing 
about soap, combs, brushes |and other toilet articles, douse* 
ing each other with water, and indulging in such rude 
horse play as among boys of coarser type is mistaken for 
fun. 

Poor Willie Granger looking on at this work of destruc- 
tion, and divided between the anxiety of failing to meet 
his mother, and the responsibility of leaving these boys 
masters of the wash-room, burst into tears. 

“ Very well,” he sobbed. “ I’ll go and tell Mr. Kane 
that I gave you the key. It’s my duty.” 

“You will !” thundered Richards. 

“ Let’s lock him in, and leave him here,” said Sommers, 
repeating his former suggestion. 

“ No,” answered Richards, we want the benefit of this 
room for ourselves.” 

“ I have a better plan,” said Peters. “ Suppose we put 
him in the shoe room.” 

Beneath the stairs leading from the wash-room to 
the dormitory, was a small, dark, apartment, employed for 
the keeping of shoes, base-ball bats, foot-ball covers and 
what not. 

When Granger heard this cruel suggestion, he saw that 
his only hope of safety was in flight. 

But, it was too late. The crafty Peters had already put 
himself between the door and his victim, and, as Granger 


MAKIIJG A BOY OP HIM. 


GO 


made a burst for liberty, caught him securely round the 
waist. 

Cruelty is contagious. Richards himself, under normal 
circumstances, would scarcely ha^^e taken pleasure in such 
conduct. But in his present ill-humor, and his present 
company, the vile suggestion of Peters found ready 
entrance into his heart. It is hard, my dear reader, nay 
almost impossible for us to be better than the company we 
keep. 

Granger, upon being caught, gave a shriek of fear, and 
struggled with frail strength he had to escape from his 
captor. But his endeavors were cut short, as Richards, 
Sommers, and a third member of the party caught him up, 
ai d proceeded to carry him over to the dark room ; while 
another of this sorry band advanced to throw open the 
door. 

In thorough terror, Willie Granger shrieked again and 
again. He was by no means a cowardly boy : still he was 
but a child — and children unless of unusually steady 
nerves cannot endure the idea of being shut up alone in 
the dark. 

“ Stop your yelling, will you,” threatened Richards, “or 
we’ll gag you.” 

Even as Richards was speaking, Peters disengaging his 
right hand, snatched a towel from one of the adjacent 
boxes, and proceeded to force it into Granger’s mouth. 

Suddenly Peters went spinning against the wall, and, as 
the towel fell from his hands, the water came to his eyes, 
to use the graphic school-boy expression, “ he saw stars.” 

“ You cowards,” ejaculated Tom Playfair following up 
this blow with another upon Richards chest, and with a 


70 


PERCY WYNX, OR 


third which sent S)rani3rs toppling over an adjoining 
bench. “ You cowards !” 

Tom, brought to the scene of action by Granger’s cries 
of terror, had come upon them so quickly and unexpected- 
ly that he had been able to make three of these “ cowards ” 
smart with pain, almost before they had become aware of 
his presence. But as Sommers went over the bench, three 
of the boys rushed upon Tom from behind, caught him 
tightly, and bore him to the ground. Tom, too, was in the 
toils. 

The mad rage of Peters was something extraordinary. 
His face in an instant had become livid with passion, he 
almost foamed at the mouth. Throwing himself upon 
Tom, who was held tightly to the floor, he was about to 
beat the unprotected face, when Sommers and Richards 
who were somewhat cooler enterposed. 

“ Hold on,” said Ilichards pulling him forcibly off the 
prostrate boy, “ we’ll lock them both in.” 

Peters was constrained to agree. 

But when they attempted to carry out their improved 
plan, fresh difficulties arose. For a boy of twelve, Tom 
was unusually strong : and he kicked and planged with 
such effect, on their attempting to raise him, that besides 
inflicting minor injuries on several, he sent one of the 
“ cowards ” doubled up and groaning into a corner. But 
the young villains were strong in their rage. Turning 
their attention to Granger, they easily succeeded in 
conveying him to the dark room ; and leaving but one to 
guard him, all now lent a hand at subduing Tom. 

“ You’re cowards ! everyone of you,” panted the struggl- 
ing champion. ‘‘You’re the meanest set that ever came 


MAKIK^G A Bov OF HIM. 


71 


to St. Maures.” 

‘‘ Gag him ! Tie him up ! Bandage his eyes ! howled 
PeterS) beside himself with passion. 

They were about to carr)' out these vindictive sugges- 
tions, when the door of the play-room flew open, and a 
new face appeared Upon the scene. 

Tom was released instantly. tlVIr. Kane stood before 
them. The boys cowered Under his eye; their 
countenances changed from anger to fear, as they stood in 
nhamefaced silence, expecting a great burst of indi gnation . 
But the prefect standing in the door- way said nothing. 
He simply gazed from one to the other, as if seeking to de- 
fine from their faces the whole series of events. 

Of all the boys, Toni was the only one who retained his 
composure in the least. Picking himself up, and calmly 
brushing his clothes, as though he were in the habit of be- 
ing pulled about the floor of the wash-room by rude hands, 
he softly moved over to Willie Granger, who was standing 
near the door of the dark room, and in his kindliest tones, 
said — 

“ Here, Willie, take some candy.” 

For some time, Mr. Kane continued to gaze on the 
the terrified group, and as he stood silent second after 
second, his face gradually changed from its usual calm 
expression, not into anger, blit into sadness. 

“If I hadn’t seen it,” he said at length, and his voice 
trembled as though he were grieved almost to tears, “ I 
could scarcely have believed the students of St. MaUres 
coul(i_ go to such an extreme pass of cowardice. If I 
hadn’t seen it, I could never have believed that their 
conduct would comnare with the conduct of barbarians,” 


PERCY WY^iN, OR 


72 

He paused for a moment, the sorrow upon his face to the 
the culprits was worse than the most violent anger. AVith 
the exception of Peters, all were thoroughly and heartily 
aslnimed. 

“ f never counted,” he added presently, “ on being 
obliged to deal with boys whose actions are suggestive 
rather of rowdyism than of Christianity. Go now, 
Richards ! go all of you, except Playfair and and Granger. 
As I am now, I am in no state to be able to decide clearly 
what punishment you should receive. I must have time 
to think.” 

“ Did you say we were cowards ?” asked Peters sulkily, 
and making a vain endeavor to brazen it out. 

“ No matter what I said : it is certain that the vile 
attempt to persecute a defenceless child, and to lock him 
up in the dark is the conduct of cowards : nay, it is more, 
it is the conduct of barbarians.” 

There was no tonp of anger in Mr. Kane’s voice, 
unaffected grief dominated the expression of all other 
feeling. Had he broken forth into violent rage, these 
delinquents might have put a bolder face upon their base 
conduct. But this mode of taking them was novel and 
entirely unlooked for. Crimsoning with shame, one by 
one they shunk from the room. 

“ Playfair,” said Mr Kane changing his tone to one of 
genuine feeling,^ I hope you’re not hurt. You look as if 
you had been used rather roughly.” 

“ O, Pm all right, sir,” said Tom cheerfully, “ I got a 
little more exercise than I wanted, seeing as I intend to take 
a long walk this afternoon; but that’s nothing.” 

“You’re a good boy,” said the prefect heartily. 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


73 


‘ Willie,” he continued, turning to Granger, who was 
hardly yet over his fit of weeping, “ you had better make 
haste, if you wish to be on time for the train. You must 
brighten and brush up at once. Here, I’ll help you. 

Taking a clothes-brush, Mr. Kane kindly dusted the lit- 
tle victim’s clothes, re-adjusted his tie, and then filled him 
a basin of water. 

“Now wash the tears from your face, my boy. Your 
mamma would be pained to know that you’ve been crying. 
Arid you need have no fear of being: molested by those 
boys a second time. This bullying must come to a stop.” 

“ I don’t think they’re all bad fellows,” said Toin who 
had theories of his own on school-boy life. “ 1 believe that 
it’s the crowd that is bad. Some of the fellows were good 
enough before they got together.” 

“ I trust you are right Playfair. Now, Willie,” he ad- 
ded, turning to Granger, “ if you start for the depot at 
once, you will easily make it.” 

Willie Granger, whose naturally bright and happy face 
had already gained its usual expression, smiled gratefully. 

“Thank you, Mr. Kane, I’m all right now, and I’m 
sure mamma won’t notice in the least that I’ve been in 
trouble. Good bye, sir.” 

And Granger set off for the depot in the best of spirit. 
The kindness of the .prefect, and the heroic unselfishness of 
Playfair, contrasted with the cruelty of his persecutors, 
had given him new and exalted ideas of goodness. Even 
the doings of the wicked oftentimes serve to bring out 
more clearly the beauty of virtue. In an innocent and 
noble soul such a contrast may at times and under proper 
conditions develope a proper appreciation of what is really 


74 


PERCY WYKN, OR 


high and heroic. 

When Tom issued from the wash-room into the yard, he 
looked about for his recent foes. They were all clustered 
together in a corner of the hand-ball alley. With as much 
non-chalance as though nothing unusual had occurred be- 
tween them, he walked straight into their midst. 

“ See here, boys,’’ .he said calmly. “ I believe in being 
square, and I’m going to tell you just exactly what I think. 
You’re all new fellows here, and I want you to know that 
most of the little boys of St. Maure’s don’t believe in 
bullying, or imposing on the smallest chaps.” 

“Do you mean to say we’re bullies, Tom Playfair?” 
asked Rickards menacingly. 

“ Why not ?” answered Tom blandly. “ But just wait 
till I’m through talking. Now look here ! the boys don’t 
know much about you yet, and most of them haven’t the 
least notion that you’ve been imposing on little boys. 
You remember the day I caught you teasing Percy Wynn? 
Well, if I’d told some of the fellows about that, they’d 
have given you the cold shoulder. If I tell what’s hap- 
pened to-day, no decent boy in the yard will care about 
having anything to do with you. Now I don’t intend to 
speak of it, so long as you behave properly. But as sure 
as I catch you at your mean tricks again. I’ll publish you 
to the yard. Then you’ll be cut dead.” 

“ See here, Tom Playfair,” said Peters, “ do you want to 
fight?” 

“ O, goodness, no ! I hate fighting.” 

“Are you afraid to try me,” said Peters doubling up his 
fists, and growing braver in the face of Tom’s tameness. 

“ Well, I am just a little afraid,” admitted Tom. 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


75 


“ You’re a mean coward,” said Peters. “ Come on, you 
blow-hard. I’m not afraid of a boy my size.” 

“That’s just the difficulty,” said Tom. “You’re not 
my size, you’re ever so much smaller.” [There was a 
difference between them of about three-fourths of an inch 
in Tom’s favor]. “ And besides as I said I’m afraid. 
You see, I might hurt you, and I’d feel very bad if I did. 
And even if you were as big as I am, I wouldn’t fight any- 
how. Fighting is vulgar, and what’sunore, it’s wrong.” 

Disregarding Peters’ entreaties to “ come on,” Tom 
turned his back upon the crowd, and walked off with every 
sign of self-possession and security. 

“ The dirty little hypocrite,” his§ed Peters. 

“ He’s not such a bad fellow,” said Richards, whose 
better nature was struggling to the surface. “ I’m sure he 
was very honest and square in what he said.” 

“ Yes,” added Sommers. “ I believe Playfair is about 
right all through. We’ve been going wrong. I never felt 
meaner in all my life, than when Mr. Kane was speaking 
to us about our bad conduct. The whole thing goes to look 
so different when he appeared.” 

“ Faugh ! you milk-sop,” said Peters witheringly, “ do 
you want to desert us.” 

“ not that,” answered Sommers, losing courage 

under the scornful glance and contemptuous words of 
Peters. “ We must all stick together, of course : but — but 
we might be a little more careful, I think, about not 
getting into trouble.” 

“That’s it,” Richards assented. “We’ll enjoy our- 
selves, but try to keep clear of trouble, and especially not 
to get on the wrong side of Playfair. He’s the most in- 


76 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


fluential boy of his size in the yard. In fact, Donnel and 
Keenan are the only two who have more influence.” 

“ Oh! so you’re .^howing the white feather, too,” said 
Peters bitterly. Indeed I O, yes, you’re quite right, so is 
Playfair, and we’ll swallow everything, Playfair says. 
Playfair said, we’re cowards — cowards! ” repeated the wily 
villain. “ And that’s just what we’re going to make our- 
selves. So we’re going to let Mister Playfair go scot free, 
for getting us into trouble and then insulting us. He was 
right — we are cowards.” 

Peters had spoken like an accomplished villain, as, in- 
deed, considering his age, he certainly was. All writhed 
under his scathing words. One moment before, several of 
these boys had been on the point of choosing a better 
course ; but they were cowards, not in Peters sense of the 
word, however; they were not brave enough to withstand 
the sneers of one bad boy. 

“ Bee here, Peters,” said Richards, his better nature 
again crushed under, “ nobody said we were going to let 
Playfair abuse us without paying him back.” 

“ O indeed! Then I’m badly mistaken, I thought that 
was what you meant.” 

“ Well I didn’t say so, and I didn’t mean any such thing 
either,” retorted Richards, now bent on gaining the leader- 
ship which Peters was threatening to assume. “ And 
what’s more, I intend fixing that Playfair so that he’ll 
remember he’s insulted the wrong crowd to the last day of 
his life.” 

These words were enough. The current was turned back 
to the old channel. The last condition has become worse 
than the former. Revenge — low, brutM, unreasoning 
revenge lurked in the eyes of all. Peters smiled : he had 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


77 


brought things to the pass he desired. 

“ Good !” he exclaimed. Kichards, you’re a trump. 1 
don’t know what your plan is for fixing Playfair; but if 
you have nothing to propose, I’ve got an idea.” 

“ Let’s hear it,” cried many eagerly. 

They drew closer together, and entered into a whispered' 
conversation. Presently Sommers, who by his expression 
and gestures seemed to dissent from the proposed project, 
left the group and walked up and down the yard alone. 
He had deserted his comrades. 

Mr. Middleton, who had entered the playground some 
five minutes after the affair in the wash-room, was now 
standing beside Mr. Kane at the other end of the yard, 
discussing with his co-laborer the morning’s disgraceful 
event. While they continued their conversation, Mr. 
Middleton kept his eye upon the knot of boys, knowing 
with a prefect’s divining instinct that their close and 
whispered interview could not be for good. 

“ Look !” said he, “ keep your eye on those boys. 
There’s something in the wind. If we both be careful in 
connecting events to-day, by to-morrow probably we shall 
have a square case, and the crowd will go. It’s the worst 
combination of little boys I have seen in St. Maure’s these 
five years. It seems to me that there’s some accomplished 
leader amongst them, and it is not Pichards. If we find 
out the real leader, we can make short work of the rest.” 

“ Don’t you think Pichards is the leader ?” asked Mr 
Kane. “He is certainly the strongest, and generally 
seems to take the lead in everything.” 

“ I thought so at first, Mr. Kane : but from little trifles 
I have noticed here and there of late, I have come to the 


78 


PEKCY WYNN, OR 


conclusion that he is the figare-head. Somebody else is 
pulling the strings. But please God we’ll know by to- 
morrow, for I see that things are coining to a head. The 
crowd has lost one member already. Sommers is disgusted 
at something, and has cut away from them. It would be 
good to keep him out of harm’s way for a while, and so 
give him no chance of weakening.— “ Sommers,” he called, 
as the lad buried in thought was passing by ; “ Sommers, 
come here one moment.” 

Sommers approached and raised his hat. 

“ Would you like to take a run up town ?” 

The boy’s eyes brightened. It was a privilege to go up 
town ; it became an honor when it embraced a confidential 
errand for the prefect. 

“ Certainly, sir.” ^ 

“ Very good. Here’s a letter for the editor of the St. 
Mail re’s Express. When you give it to him, tell him you 
will return in an hour for the answer. Tn the meantime 
you may take a walk about the village, and amuse your- 
self as you please.” 

Thank you, Mr. Middleton.” And Sommers set forth 
brightly on his errand, his determination strengthened to 
give up for good and all his former company. 

The prefect was a skilful judge of human nature in 
general, and of boy nature in particular. To one striving 
to rise from lower to higher, nothing is so helpful, nothing 
so strengthening as judicious and timely kindness. 
Probably, if Sommers had remained in the yard that 
morning, he would ultimately have been forced down by 
the pressure of human respect to' his former level. But 
this kindly commission gave a new and lasting stimulus to 


MAKING A BOY OP HIM. 


79 


his resolution. He was done with certain habits and 
associations forever. 

His conversion, however, was not complete — it was 
natural, helped on, it is true, by grace ; but not miraculous. 
Indeed, as he went on towards the village, there was a 
sharp, biting, fierce conflict between his awakened sense of 
duty and his human respect. He knew that a dastardly 
plan was preparing, which might result in serious harm to 
Tom Playfair : he knew, too, that one word from him 
might avert the danger. But the cost of that one word to 
him ! — the contempt of his former friends ! — their jeerings! 
their insults! No: it w^as asking too much. He would 
take no hand in the matter, cost what it might. But for 
the rest, he would say nothing. 

“ Perhaps,” he communed with himself, “ something 
may spoil their plan. I hope so. But I haven’t the heart 
to tell on my old friends.” 

Not quite satisfied with himself, he kept his way towards 
the village, turning the matter in his mind, and vainly 
striving to square his resolution with his duty. 

“Ah II know what I’ll do,” he said brightening. “If 
Tom doesn’t come back to-night before bed-time. I’ll tell.” 

This, after all, was but a compromise with his con- 
science : he could not but realize that it was his duty to 
give word at once, and so avert all danger. 

But in spite of his desire to do better, he was still a 
coward. Prayer and perseverance, let us hope, will in time 
give him true courage. 


CHAPTER VIIL 


m WHICH PERCY MAKES A DESPERATE RESOLVE. 

In the mearitinie, we have been neglecting Percy. 
Where was he all the morning? Quietly seated at his 
desk in the study hall. Poo much exercise has again 
crippled him. So stilF and sore were his legs, that it was 
with pain and difficulty he could move at all. Entirely 
ignorant, therefore, of the many events narrated in the 
last chapter, he read page after page of Dion and the 
Sibyls. Nor did he leave the study-hall, till the bell 
summoned him to dinner in the refectory. 

The afternoon was inviting. The day had become warm 
and bright, so Percy instead of returning to his desk 
brought his book to the yard, and desirous of avoiding all 
interruption, obtained permission from Mr. Middleton to 
retire from the play-ground proper into a little shaded 
recess beyond the old church building. Here selecting a 
cozy corner, he was soon wrapped in the story. Percy had 
the faculty of so concentrating his mind as to lose himself 
entirely in his reading. Tom Playfair had been in the 
habit of verifying this fact by picking Percy’s pockets, 
filling them with stones, twisting his tie and indulging in 
other such pleasantries, much to Percy’s subsequent sur- 
prise. But on this afternoon no Tom Playfair was about 
to put this power of abstraction to the test. All the same, 
Percy was far away from the land of the real. The shouts 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


81 


from the play-ground, the roaring of a passing train, the 
piping of the latest lingering birds, the occasional rumble 
of heavy wagons to and from St. Maure’s, these and a 
hundred other noises were entirely without the sphere of 
his consciousness. Several hours passed on : Percy was 
still in another land and dealing with other people. 

Two boys stealing from the yard entered into earnest con- 
versation almost within five feet of Percy’ who was screened 
from their sight by a projecting end of the old building. 
As the conversation proceeded under his very ears (if I 
may use the expression), Percy did get an indistinct idea 
that he was not alone : but it was such an idea as one has 
in a dream, where fully believing in the images presented 
by the fancy, one still realizes in a faint manner that one 
is not really awake. Hence the words’of the two speakers 
fell upon ears that gave them no meaning. Had the boys 
then departed, Percy would never have been able to say 
positively that he had heard so much as one word. 

Suddenly he was brought back from the days of Dion to 
his own little hour with a start , his book fell from his 
hand. 

“Yes” — these were the words that attracted his atten- 
tiQH — “ Playfair may catch pneumonia or something of the 
sort, if he’s kept out all night in the frost and damp. It’s 
almost sure to be cold to-night. I tell you, the thing is go- 
ing too far. It’s downright wicked — it’s criminal ! ” 

Percy recognized the voice as that of Sommers. 

“ Well, ” said the other, whom Percy failed to make out, 
“ it’s too late now to do anything. Peters has found out 
some way or other — he seems to know everything — that 
Quip and Playfair have taken an afternoon walk to Pawnee 


82 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


Creek. Peters and Richards and all the other fellows ex- 
cept YOU and me have gone walking with the prefect: and 
when the prefect stops for a rest, they’ll get permission to 
walk about for a while. Then they’ve arranged to get 
scattered from the other boys, and pretend, when they 
come home, that they’ve been lost. But just as soon as 
they get away from the prefect’s eyes, they’re going to 
make for the old stone wall out on the prairie at a run. 
They’ll fix a hiding place there and wait till Playfair and 
Qui|) come along. Then they’re going to tie and gag both 
of them, and if they can get a tree or post convenient 
they’ll fasten them to it. ” 

“ I’ll never have anything to do with those fellows 
again,’’ said Sommers with energy. “Oh ! I’m a coward! 
Why didn’t I give a hint while there was time. But what’s 
the use talking. If I had the morning over again, I’m sure 
I’d do the same thing. I am a coward — But what on earth 
are they going to tie and gag Quip for ? ” 

“ l^eters insisted on it. He says that Quip will be sure 
to smash the whole thing, if he once gets to the yard. ” 

“ Well, perhaps they won’t catch them anyhow, ” said 
Sommers. May be Tom will walk home by the railroad 
track. ” 

“No, he won’t. He’s sure to come back along by the place 
where they intend waiting for him. Peters has found out 
in some queer way that the tw^o intend to explore about 
Pawnee Creek till about four o’clock ; then they are com- 
ing back, and, on the road, intend stopi)ing to examine 
some rabbit traps which they have set near the stone wall. 
Peters knows just where the traps are. He’s a sharp 
fellow. ” 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


S8 


“ I’m afraid there’ll be some harm done, ” s<dd ►Som- 
mers gloomily. Those fellows with Peters running them 
will be cruel as wild beasts. I feel that Peters has made 
me act that way more than once. They’ll tie those ])oor 
boys so tight, that thev’ll not be able to move a limb, and 
besides the danger of })assing a niglit in the cold, they’ll be 
sore for weeks. Well, it can’t be helped, I suppose.” 

Imagine Percy’s terror and anxiety on hearing these 
words. His best friends in danger ! What could he do ? 
Here he was unable to walk one step without pain — and 
Tom and Harry sei)arated from him by several miles. 

“ O my God,” murinered Percy, “ give me light, give me 
grace,; give me strength. ” Percy had the beautiful habit 
of having recourse to God in all dangers and difficulties. 
With him prayer was a living thing, not a formality. 

For several minutes he prayed and pondered ; pondered 
and prayed ; while in the meantime, the two hoys had 
again slipped into the yard. Finally, throwing his book to 
one side, he hurried despite his stiffness into the play- 
ocround, and looked anxiously around. Only a few boys 
were about; none of whom he could take for a friend in 
counsel. 

“O, if I could just find Donnel,. or Keenan, ” thought 
Percy, “ O, Mr.* Middleton, ” he said, addressing the ])re- 
fect, “ can you tell me where I might find John Donnel, or 
George Keenan?” 

“They’re out walking, Percy, ” answered Mr. Middleton 
who perceived atmnce that the boy was in a state of unus- 
ual excitement, “and they won’t be back in all probability 
till supper time. It is now nearly three. What’s the mat- 
ter, my boy, you look troubled?” 


84 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


Percy stood in thought for a moment before replying. 
Like most students he hated anything in the nature of 
tale-bearing : especially if the matter could be settled with- 
out bringing his school-fellows into trouble with the au- 
thorities. It had been his intention to inform Keenan and 
Donnel of the state of affairs as he understood it, trusting 
to their tact and energy to bring Tom and Harry through 
unharmed. Would it be wdse, he pondered, to tell the pre- 
fect ? After all, he himself might set out, warn Tom, and 
thus avert the impending danger without exposing his fel- 
low-students to punishment. Besides, he felt that he 
could scarcely make a straight story out of what he had 
gleaned from the conversation. Here and there, he had 
lost a word ; and all that he could clearly make out was 
that if Tom and Harry w'ere to return home by the road 
they had resolved upon, across the prairies, they incurred 
the danger of spending the night bound and gagged in the 
open air. In a moment, he had made his resolve. He, 
himself, without informing Mr. Middleton of what w^as on 
foot, would defeat the plan. 

Perhaps it had been wiser had Percy told all that he 
knew to the prefect. In grave cases it often becomes a duty 
to inform higher authorities. But he acted according to 
his lights. Had he realized that it was proper and right 
for him to reveal the scheme, he would certainly have done 
so. But on this occasion there was no time for balancing 
nice probabilities. 

“ Mr. Middleton, would you please give me permission 
to go out and meet Tom and Harry ? I have something 
very important that I w^ant to tell them. 

The prefect was w^ondrously sympathetic with boy-feel- 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


85 


ings. He perceived at once that Percy had strong reasons 
for preferring his request. But being a very considerate 
touching school-boy in honor, he refrained from worrying 
the lad with further inquiries. And yet a fine instinct in 
regard to the thoughts and emotions of students does not 
necessarily supply information as to their state of physical 
health. Had Mr. Middleton but known, how stiff and 
sore were poor Percy’s legs, he might have taken a different 
course. 

“ Yes I you may go. ” 

“ O, thank you, Mr. Middleton. I shall never forget 
your kindness. Could you please tell me the shortest way 
to Pawnee Creek ? ” 

‘‘ The shortest way is across the prairie ; the surest 
along the railroad. But have you ever been there? ” 

“ No sir, but I know the direction. ” And Percy waved 
his hand so as to embrace the whole east in a general way. 

“ Don’t trust the prairie then : those undulations are 
very deceptive. Before you know it, you’ll be lost, and af- 
ter an hour’s walking, you may find that you’ve been go- 
ing in a circle. Better take the railroad track. It’s a 
good four miles ; and will take you at least an hour’s sharp 
walking. ” 

O dear, O dear, ” almost groaned Percy, “and its three 
o’clock now. ” 

“ Just ten minutes past three. ” 

“ Well, good bye, sir, ” and Percy, realizing that not one 
moment was to be lost, made his polite little bow, turned, 
and walked rapidly towards the gate leading from the 
yard. 

His kind affectionate heart was throbbing with suspense. 


85 


wyxx, or 


Wliat if he should miss them ? What if they were to re- 
sume their homeward route earlier than four o’clock? 

As he reached, the gate, he heard his name called. He 
turned, and discovered Mr. Middleton hurriedly advancing 
towards him. 

“ Hold on one m ) nent, Percy, ” said the prefect, who 
had evidently been pursuing some similar train of thought, 
“ I’ve been thinking you may have some difficulty in find- 
ing your friends. Here is a whistle which may be of some 
use to you. It makes a tremendous noise, and carries to a 
good distance. You might try it, if you can’t get sight of 
Tom and Harry. ” 

“ Well, if you aren’t just too kind,” exclaimed Percy, 
his round blue eyes and mobile lips expressing the liveliest 
gratitude. “ Mr. Middleton, I’ll love you and pray for 
you the longest day I live. ” 

And with a smile and a bow, he hurried away, leaving 
the good prefect buried in thought. 


CHAPTER IX. 


IN WHICH PERCY MAKES A BRAVE FIGHT AGAINST 
DISCOURAGEMENTS. 

Once on the railroad track, and beyond sight of the yard, 
Percy broke into a run. Under the excitement of the 
occasion, he no longer felt the stiffness in his limbs. No 
one looking at him now, would imagine that but a few 
hours before, he could scarcely move across the yard. For 
several minutes he trotted sturdily on, the quick patter of 
his feet being the only noise to disturb the silence ; till, by 
degrees, his breathing, growing shorter and shorter, also 
lent its aid towards disturbing the solemn stillness. But he 
continued to hold his . pace, though at every moment he 
panted more and more. Finally his heart began beating 
so violently, that he became frightened. 

“ O, dear, dear! What shall I do 1” he murmured as he 
relaxed his pace to a walk. “ I’m so weak and short- 
winded, and poor Tom and Harry in danger. O, my dear 
Angel, help me !” 

For five or six minutes, he walked briskly on, — almost 
every step accompanied by an ejaculation to his invisible 
gui^e for help, — till he came to a mile stone. 

“ One mile passed. Only three miles more. Now for 
another spurt.” 

With a yet more earnest prayer to his attendant angel, 
whom, like a Catholic boy, he really saw with the clear 
vision of trusting faith, he again broke into a run. But 
this time, he gave out much sooner. In less than four 
minutes he was going at a walk. To add to his trouble 


83 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


ail aixloty, tli3 in)raiti/s s!:i;Ti3^3 r3 isn:!;}.! it^'3lt. 
Every step was now registered in pain, and his pretty, 
delicate face was contorted with agony out of all 
shapeliness. But his compressed lips, and his steady eye 
gave evidence that in that poor pain-racked frame there 
dwelt the spirit and the will of a hero. Did I say that 
every step was registered in pain ? Doubtless every step 
was also registered in a place where pain and sorrow enter 
not ; but where love and peace and rest are forever. 

The agony of torture increased, till the tears came to his 
eyes. They came, and coursed down his cheeks. But it 
would be useless to turn back. No one but himself could 
now carry out the work of warning Tom and Harry. And 
yet, he felt the strongest of desires to throw himself 
down on the earth, and simply lie there. How inviting 
the wittered autumn grass beside the track appeared to 
his dimmed eyes ! 

“ O, dear, dear!” he thought. “ Surely Tm giving out. 
But if I give up, poor Tom and Harry will — but I worCt 
give up. No, I’ll walk right on : and I’ll not stop so long 
as I’m able to move.” 

But notwithstanding the firmness of his resolve, groan 
after groan broke from his lips. 

“ Hurrah !” he faltered presently, “ there’s the second 
mile stone.” 

As he spoke a sudden and strong gust of wind from the 
north came upon him, carrying away his hat. But of this 
little misfortune he took no notice. What was his hat to him 
now ? But Tom and Harry ? — he again broke into a run. 

Strange to say, he held his pace much longer this time 
than even in his first attempt. But his delicate face had 


MAKING A BOY OP HIM. S9 

become knotted with pain ; his long golden hair, the sport 
and plaything of the unfeeling wind, had become all di- 
shevelled, throwing itself about his eyes, or floating wildly 
in the breeze. Poor child ! who looking at him now would 
have recognized in him the “ mamma’s darling ” of the 
last month. In that frail, delicate body, there dwelt a 
brave heart. 

For some seven or eight minutes he had been running 
briskly along, when he happened to strike his foot against 
one of the railroad ties. He stumbled and fell prone. A 
dizziness came upon him, a strong, blind unreasoning desire 
to stay where he fell — to lie there and rest, rest — come 
what might. His head fell back : his eyes closed. A 
stupor was upon him. Tom and Harry’s case seemed lost. 
A moment passed, and with a shiver his eyes opened again 
and consciousness returned. 

“ Help me. Mother Mary !” he moaned. 

With a strong effort of the will, he arose and resumed 
his walk, his head still swimming, his heart beating more 
violently than ever— literally thumping against his ribs 
but on he pressed. 

Presently a sound — it was not a cry — of joy broke from 
his parched lips. The bridge — Pawnee bridge was in sight 
far off, but still in sight. 

“ O, thank God, thank God !” he said, or rather 
attempted to say, for his cracked and parched lips refused 
to do their duty. 

Alternately walking and running he made forward with 
revived energy. Nearer and nearer came the bridge. 
Hope grew stronger, and supplied the place of physical 
strength. One spurt more— but a few hundred yards, and 


90 


PERCY WYJfN, OR 


the bridge spanning Pawnee Creek would be gained. 

There he was at length, panting, breathless, his hat gone, 
his clothes covered with dirt and dust ; his unprotected 
hair all dishevelled, his face twisted with pain yet triumph- 
ant in hope, there he was leaning against the side of the 
bridge, his eyes scanning the country round about on all 
sides. Alas! no sight of Tom or Harry! He drew the 
whistle from his pocket, and put it to his lips. It gave a 
high, penetrating sound. 

But what should he do now? Were it best to wait for a 
possible answer to the call? Or should he move along 
Pawnee Creek ? He decided to explore further. But here 
a new difficulty presented itself. The creek flowed to- 
wards the river. Should he trace its course to its mouth, 
or rather should he go up stream along its windings 
through the prairie ? He was entirely ignorant of the 
locality, but reflecting that Tom and Harry were to take 
the prairie going col lege- wards, he quickly decided to go 
up stream. Almost dragging himself, he moved with pain 
towards an eminence several hundred yards off on the 
prairie, which, he judged, would command an extensive 
view of the creek in its various windings. It was an 
agonizing progress, but love and hope spurred him on, in 
spite of growing languor, in spite of increasing weakness, 
in spite of a thousand sharp pains. Half way up the 
eminence, he was compelled to stop from sheer exhaustion ; 
his head seemed to be turning round and round : he felt 
that he was about to fall. 

“ Heart of Jesus,” he murmured, “strengthen me!” 

Percy believed in prayer : hence his prayers were never 
unheard. He again pressed on — a few painful, toilsome 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


91 


moments and the summit was gained. In part his expecta- 
tions were realized. The eminence did command an ex- 
tensive view of the stream : for over half a mile he could 
descry its various nooks and bends, except where the 
trees lining its banks were unusually thick. But no sight 
of the two boys ! 

Percy did not burst into tears. His sufferings were too 
deep for such expression of grief ; but his heart grew sick. 
Again he swept the horizon. Half a mile from the creek 
in a westerly direction, arose a prairie undulation of 
unusual size. Were there not two figures in it, standing 
out in the light of the dropping sun ? Percy could not 
make sure. His head was swimming, and a mist was before 
his eyes. Yes, surely there must be something there, 
could it be they? But.even so, they were beyond his call. 
He was powerless to catch their attention. What could 
he do? — O, yes, — the whisile. Once more he blew it clear 
and loud. Was it heard ? W ere the figures he perceived 
merely an illusion of the fancy, or really his two friends? 
and did they, as it seemed to him, turn at the sound ? He 
was sure of nothing : but he again blew the whistle, and 
made a great efibrt to shout. Poor fellow ! his cry would 
not have disturbed a singing bird at his side. 

His dizziness increased : scarcely knowing what he did, 
he eagerly looked about him. At his feet there chanced to 
lie a long pole— doubtless once used by some St. Maure, 
students on a fishing excursion. Hastily tying his hand- 
kerchief to its tapering end, he raised the rod into the air 
and waved it several times ; then staggered and fell to the 
earth senseless. 


CHAPTER X, 


IN WHICH PERCY RESCUES TOM AND HARRY ; TOM AND 
HARRY RESCUE PERCY ; AND A THIRD PARTY RESCUES 
THE TRIO. 

“ Percy, old fellow, don’t you know me?” 

Tom, supporting Percy’s head npon his bended knee, was 
looking down earnestly into the child’s face. 

Percy, who had just opened his eyes, smiled with a great 

Joy. 

“ Water, ” he whispered. 

“ Hurry up, Harry, ” shouted Tom turning his head 
towards the creek. 

Harry came breathlessly up the hill with a tin can filled 
with water. Percy drank of it eagerly ; the color came to 
his pallid face. 

“ That’s right, old boy, ”^said Tom, “ You’ll be as good 
as new in a minute. ” 

“ 0 Tom, ” said Percy pressing his hand, “ I came so 
near missing you. ” 

“ I should rather say you did. If it weren’t for the in- 
fernal noise you made with that whistle, Harry and I 
would have been half way back to St. Maures by this time. 
But what on earth brought you out here, losing yourself 
tramping over the prairie, when any sensible boy with legs 
like yours would be in bed. Suppose you had missed us 
in the state you are in now, you mightn’t have been able to 
get home to-night. But I suppose something must have 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


98 


■gone wrong. Has anybody been bothering you ? ” 

“ O, no, Tom, the boys as a rule are very kind to me. 
And when they do tease me for being just a little tco girl- 
ish, you know ; they are so good-natured about it. ” 

O, awfully ! ” said Tom, sarcastically. 

“ I came, ” continued Percy, “ to tell you both not to go 
home the way you intended, but to take the railroad track.” 
Tom whistled. 

“ You don’t mean to say, ” he exclaimed, “ that you’ve 
nearly ruined your little legs and half killed yourself, to 
come and tell us another way of walking home ! ” 

“ Yes, Tom : if you go home the way you intended, 
there’s Richards and a lot of others — Peters, and I don’t 
know who else— who are in hiding by this time, waiting to 
tie and gag you, and leave you out on the prairie all night. 
I was so afraid I wouldn’t find you two ; and I did come 
very near missing you ; but now I’m perfectly happy. ” 

For the first time in a long while, Tom’s eyes filled. 
Harry Quip fairly cried. 

“ Well, Percy Wynn, if ever I said you weren’t a real 
boy, I was a /oo/, ” said Tom in a tone wherein energy and 
feeling were equally blended. “ You couldn’t walk a sin- 
gle foot without pain, when I left you after dinner ; and 
now you come four miles to help a poor idiot like me. 
You’ve almost killed yourself for us two — O Harry ! ” 

And Tom furtively wiped his eyes. 

“ Dear me ! ” said Percy please, please don’t make such 
a fuss about it. It really wasn’t so very hard, and I’m not 
hurt in the least. It’s only because I can’t stand much ex- 
ercise that I gave out. Indeed, I’d gladly do much more 
for either of you. ” 


94 


PERCY WYNX, OR 


“ [ k:iow what a boy is now better than ever I did be-’* 
fore,” pursued Tom. “I thought I knew a lol, yester- 
day ; but now I feel as ignorant as a young calf. O, Percy, 
how could you ?” 

Percy arose. 

Come on, boys: I’m all right, and we can start for the 
college now. And really, I never was so glad in all my 
life. You see, I didn’t hope ever to be of any use to you.” 

” But you are, and you were, ” protested Tom. “ And 
you’ve taught me more than all my books. ” 

“ And I never expected you’d teach me half as much as 
you’ve done this hour, Percy, ” added Harry whose emo- 
tion had sufficiently subsided to allow him to put his grati- 
tude into words : “ though all along, you’ve made me do a 
heap of thinking, since I first met you. ” 

These two friends were beside themselves with admira- 
tion at Percy’s noble and self-sacrificing conduct. Justly 
to appreciate nobility, one must be noble oneself. 

“ But how are we going to get back?” asked Harry. 

“ You could hardly bring yourself this far, and you’ve 
nearly the same distance to go over again. ” 

“ O, I think I can walk, ” said Percy, bravely. “ It was 
the running which wore me out. I had less than an hour 
to make it in. ” 

In silence they moved slowly towards the railroad track. 

‘‘ O, ” said Tom clinching his fists indignantly, “ if 
Keenan or Donnel were with us, you may be sure we’d go 
back the way we intended. ” 

“ It’s growing colder, ” added Harry reflectively, “ and 
we’re going to have a frosty night. Ugh ! just think of 
shivering out here in the Kansas geutle zephyr, and not be- 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


95 


iiig able to move, or say as much as howdy do ! ” 

As they wended their way slowly college^wards, Percy 
told them how he had happened to overhear the plot against 
them ; but his voice was extremely weak, and Tom noticed 
with anxiety that his steps were faltering, and at times 
lines of pain revealed themselves on his face. 

It was now getting on towards five o’clock, and they had 
accomplished barely half a mile. 

“ Percy, ” said Tom when the boy had made an end to 
his narration, ‘‘you’re not fit to walk. You mustn’t do it. 

O, I’d give anything if I could lend you my legs ; they’d be 
in decent company for the first time. ” 

“ Don’t mind me, Tom, I’m all right. Of conrse, I am a 
little stiff you know. I’ve never had any practice at run- 
ning. ” 

“Well, ” said Tom, “ Harry and I will lend you as much • 
of our legs as we can. Here Harry get his right arm and 
brace him up. I’ll take the other. Let’s imagine we’re 
policemen, and that we’re hustling this young man off* to 
the station. ” 

“ I wish we were policemen, ” said Harry as he complied 
with the suggestion. “ Wouldn’t I whistle and yell for a 
patrol-wagon ? O, no ! ” 

Thus supported, Percy went on for a long time. But in 
spite of their assistance, his anxious friends noticed that 
the ghastly pallor was deepening on Percy’s face, and that 
sharp spasms of pain were ever and anon racking his deli- 
cate frame. 

“ And all this for me and Harry, ” Tom reflected, his 
eyes again filling. “ If we don’t do something, the boy will 
be ruined for life. I wish he hadn’t heard of that plot. 


03 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


Even if I didn’t manage to scratch through, I’d rather 
spend a week bound and tied than see poor Percy in such a 
state” — he added aloud. “ Here let’s stop one moment, 
and take a rest. ” 

There was a grass-covered embankment hard by, which at 
once suggested itself for a stopping-place. 

Tom and Harry instinctively threw off their coats, and 
sih.itly arranged the n as a te nporary mattress for the suf- 
ferer. 

“ Now, Percy, ” added Tom in his gentlest tones as he 
seated himself, “ Lie down on these coats: you’re so heated 
from your exertions that you’ll surely catch cold, if you 
lie on the ground. I’m sorry there’s nothing like a pillow 
convenient, but you must make the best of my knees. ” 

Percy smiled affectionately on Tom as he obeyed the or- 
der. He sank back, and almost immediately his eyes 
closed as though he were lest to consciousness. 

Both boys gazed in lively anxiety on the still, calm beau- 
tiful face. They were in the greatest alarm. To them 
that face was as the face of the dead. 

“Harry,” said Tom after a few moments of thinking, 
and his voice had sunk to a grave whisper, “ it’s nonsense 
to think of Percy’s taking another step. I’ll stay with him 
here for a while, and then I’ll try to carry him along the 
track, (0 if I were a man for an hour or so), and you had 
better start off right now, and run as hard as you can till 
you get to the town-road crossing the track, and try to 
get some wagoner to wait and give us a lift. I’ll be on as 
soon as I can. ” 

Without delay or hesitation, Harry set off at the pace of 
a foot-racer. He was an excellent runner, and with the 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


97 


skill of long practice, he had no doubt that he would 
reach the road — a little over a mile off — within seven or 
eight minutes. 

Presently Percy’s eyes opened. 

“ O Percy, ” cried Tom. Thank God ! How are you 
now, old boy ? Don’t you feel better ? ” 

The invalid noticed Tom’s anxiety and alarm. 

“O, yes, indeedy, ” he said with a bright smile. “I 
think I can go on now. ” 

“ Very good, Percy. On you go. ” 

Percy was in too weak a condition to express his surprise 
at the extreme novelty of the proceedings, when Tom, as if 
it were but a matter of every day life, ipicked him up in 
his arms, and started off for the college. 

Luckily for Tom, Percy, though a year older, was very 
lightly built. Still he was an extraordinary weight for a 
boy of twelve to carry. Tom, however, was strong and en- 
during. Gratitude, too, and generosity came to his aid. 

So onwards he moved with quick and steady stride, his 
countenance, though he could not but breathe heavily, 
fixed into a matter-oMact expression, as though the work 
in hand were something he had given himself to from 
early youth. Percy said nothing : but his face expressed 
wonder. 

“Don’t be alarmed, Percy : I’m not tiring myself one 
bit, ” he said re-assuringly. “ In fact, I rather enjoy it : 
I’m awfully fond of exercise, you know. I’d run with 
you, only I’m afraid of tripping up. ” 

Suddenly Tom perceived through the gathering darkness 
a horseman coming towards them at a furious gallop. His 
heart beat high with hope as horse and rider drew nearer 


98 


PERCY WYNE, OR 


and nearer. 

“ Hurrah, ” he said as the approaching help came within 
the distance of his (distinct vision. “ Well ! did you ever 
hear of such a thing, Percy? If it isn’t Mr. Middleton ! ” 


CHAPTEE XI. 


IN WHICH MR. MIDDLETON FINDS HIS LOST SHEEP, BOTH 
WHITE AND BLACK. 

Mr. Middleton it was. A few words will explain liis 
presence. 

When Mr. Kane had returned about supper time from 
his walk, and reported Richards, Peters and some' seven or 
eight others absent, a light dawned upon Mr. Middleton’s 
mind. He remembered distinctly the morning’s incidents; 
he called to mind Percy’s anxiety to meet Tom and Harry. 
Clearly thare was some evil scheme on foot, which Percy 
had set out to frustrate. 

‘‘ Mr. Kane,” he said hurriedly, “will you please take the 
boys to supper this evening? *1 must make an examina- 
tion into this matter at once : I fear there is something 
wrong going on. ” 

Girding up his habit, he hurried over to the stables back 
of the college, saddled the swiftest horse, and set out with 
all speed for Pawnee Creek. 

As his horse trotted on over the prairie, the prefect’s 
watchful eyes caught sight of a skulking figure hastily re- 
treating under shelter of the old stone wall. Putting spurs 
to his horse, he came a moment later upon the conspirators 
all huddled together. With a prefect’s practiced glance, he 
took them in. Every one of Mr. Kane’s reported absentees 
was there. ■ . 

“ Go home at once, ” he said sternly. “ It is now twenty 
minutes before supper time. If a single one of you report 
late, his case will become even more serious than itnowis.” 


100 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


Leaving the disconcerted band in a state of terror, he 
How took his way at more leisure, always contriving to 
keep the railroad in sight. 

Some few minutes later, the prefect from an eminence 
on the prairie perceived some one running at full speed 
along the track. In an instant he was upon him. 

“ O, Mr. Middleton,” shouted Harry, “I’m just looking 
for help. Poor Percy is about half-dead. You’ll find him 
and Tom about a mile farther down the track.” 

“ Why didn’t you take him home the shorter way across 
the prairies, if he was so weak asked the prefect hurriedly.” 

“ Because — because, Percy didn’t want us to take that 
direction,” answered Harry evasiyely. 

“ Hum ! Take a rest here, Harry, and try to get your 
breath before. I send Tom on to join you. I’ll take care of 
Percy.” 

He dashed on with increased speed, till he came upon 
Tom, now walking rather unsteadily, under his delicate 
burden. 

“ Good boy, Tom : good boy, but you are worn out. Is 
Percy unconscious ?” 

“ O, I’m all right Mr. Middleton. How do you do, sir ?” 
answered Percy in a faint yoice. “ Only my legs are a trifle 
weak.” 

“ Can you hand him up to me, Tom ?” 

“ Certainly*sir,” said the young porter, puffing at a great 
rate. “ He’s not as bad as some dumb bells, I’ve lifted*” 

Mr. Middleton placed Percy in front of him, as con- 
veniently as the circumstances would permit. 

“ Poor child,” he said sorrowfully. “ It’s all my fault, 
too. I should have remembered when you spoke to me this 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


101 


afternoon that you were in no condition to walk.” 

“ O, I’m so glad you let me go, Mr. Middleton. I 
wouldn’t have missed that walk for anything.” 

“Well, Tom,” continued the prefect, “push on along 
the track : you’ll find Harry, who is as much out of breath 
as yourself, awaiting you. Percy and I will go on ahead, 
and we’ll manage to have a good supper ready for both of 
you — won’t we, Percy?” 

Percy smiled faintly. 

“ When you reach the college, go straight to the infirm- 
ary, — you and Harry. I’ll pursuade the infirmarian to 
have supper for there, and an extra one at that.” 

Mr. Middleton then turned the horse’s head, and at a 
pace suitable to the delicate condition of his companion, 
made for the college. He drew rein at the door of the in^ 
firmary, and descending with his charge entered the small- 
boys’ sick room. 

“ Brother, here’s a boy who tried to see how far he could 
walk without killing himself,” he said to the infirmarian, 
as he gently laid Percy on a bed. “ He’s very weak, as 
you see, and needs something to tone him up.” 

The brother hurried into the little drug-shop hard by, 
and quickly returned with a small glass of light wine. 

“ Swallow that, boy ; and you’ll feel ever so much better 
at once. I’m glad you’ve come,” he continued as Percy 
emptied the glass, “ for there’s not a boy in the infirmary 
at present, and I’m so anxious for something to do, that 
I’ve begun to feel lonesome.” 

“ O, by the way,” said Mr. Middleton, “you won’t be so 
lonesome to-night, I fancy. There are two more boys, 
Playfair and Quip, whom I have ordered to come here. 


102 PERCY VYYNN, OR 

Tliey’ll be on very soon. Both of them have had a rather 
hard time of it helping Percy on, and as they are very 
tired and too late for supper, I’m sure you’ll be kind enough 
to give them board and lodging for the night in your .best 
style.” ' 

“That [ will,” said the brother heartily, and rubbing 
his hands. “ They’ll get such a supper to-night, as they 
never'yet had in St. Maures. ” ■ * s 

“ Excellent ! Now, I’ve quite a number of things to clear 
up, if possible, before night studies begin ; so I’ll leave 
e/ery thing to you. Good bye, Percy. ” 

“ Good bye,' Mr. Middleton. My sisters, no, not even my 
mamma could have been any kinder to me than you have 
been.” ' , . ■ 

The prefect smiled as he hurried out. I suspect that his 
histe was partly caused by the fear of being discovered in 
the act of blushing. . • ' .r 

Tu 3 boys had tlnishe d supper some time before, and were 
n )w engaged at play, preparatory to night studies.- But 
Mr. Middleton instead of going to the yard, returned to his 
room, sending word through a student, whom he chanced 
to meet in the corridor of the main building, that he wished 
Richards to repair thither. 

Seating himself at his desk, the prefect buried his face in 
his hands, and surrendered himself to a train of thinking. 

“ I’m going to find all the ins-and-outs of this matter, ” 
he reflected. “ Let me put together what I know. Play- 
fair interfered with these fellows this morning, when they 
set upon persecuting little Granger ; and, owing to Mr. 
Kane’s appearance on the scene, they come off worst. Then 
they held some evil counsel in the yard. Whatever it is, 


AfAKlKli A 1?()Y OF HIM. 


Kl] 

It is something more than usually bad ; for Sommers leuves 
them. Ah! by the way — Scmmcrs did htt (it A'.iili 
them on the walk... Theii, Percy came ^ on tlie ktuc, j.’I 
fright and anxiety, having evidently got some woid ( f tl eir 
mechinations.. He goes, out to; warn T(.m ami Hany. he 
conspirators don’t return with their compjinii/ns f:( m ihi* 
walk. I go out, and disco ver^them all in Lidit g beside il 
stone ivall. It seems clear enough that they exptctid T( r.i 
and Harry to return from the, creek in that direction ; it is 
clear too that their scheme, whatever it was, ''’as to be car- 
ried out there; and lastly, it is no less clear that Tom and 
Harry, who know the walks well, would surely have come 
back that way, had they not been warned, for it is. by far 
the shortest and most pleasant road. Now the great ques- 
tion is — what were the intentions of these boys in endeav- 
oring to waylay Tom ? and, more, important still, who is 
the real ringleader — However, there’ll be little difficulty, 
d believe, towards getting something definite on both these 
points. ” 

n He had scarcely^ pieced out these circumstances, when 
'there came a knock at the door. , .r 

Lj “Comein. ... 

Richards crestfallen, pale, and trembling, entered. 

Well,'‘sirv This is a pretty business. I believe Mr. 
'Kane told you and your, sorry, companions Ak is morning 
that you were.acting like cowards. J fear that he rather 
Understated the real fact. What have you do say for your- 
'self, sir ? ” . ' r ■ » ■. 

" “ Really, sir, and truly,,! didn’t propose the plan, ” pre- 
setted Richards. ' “ I’m awfully ashamed of the whole mat- 
ter . I am, upon my word, sir. . 0, Mr. Middleton, it never 




PERCY WYNN, OR 


lOi 

octjured to m3 when I first a^ree 1 to the thing, that it 
would turn out to be a frosty night. 

“ Oho ! exposure to the night air, ” thought the prefect, 
‘ To It’s soimthiug. ” — He aided aloud — “ But you should 
have thought of it. Suppose the boys were to have con- 
tracted some grave malady from exposure ? ” 

“ Well, I objected all along to tying them and gagging 
them : but Peters said they’d make such a n )ise as to spoil 
everything. ” 

“ O, indeed !” said the prefect, who now knew all he de- 
sired. “I’ll consider the case. You may go.” 

“ But, Mr. Middleton, upon my solemn word. I’ll change 
if you give me another chance. Indeed, I will. Please 
don’t get me expelled this tim3. I am sure I can do better. 
I never thought I should go so far. I’ll have nothing to 
do with Peters after this : an I you’ll see that I’ll act quite 
diderently. ” 

Well, ” answered Mr. Middleton, really moved by the 
lad’s sorrovy and distress, “ I’ll try to save you, Charlie; 
to-morrow we’ll have a talk together, and I’ll give you 
some advice. ” 

“ Thank you, sir. I’ll do anything you think proper.” 

“I thought so, ” reflected the prefect, as Richards left 
the room ; “‘Peters is the real leader. Richards is his cap- 
tain. Peters must have caused these boys to believe that on 
account of the large number concerned, there would be no 
thought of expulsion. Still he must assuredly have a 
strong hold on them to bring them round to so hair-brained 
a scheme. Certainly he is a dangerous boy. No enter- 
prise so hazardous and wicked has come under my notice, 
since my coming to St. Maures. ” 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


105 


That night towards the end of studies, the President of 
the college entered the small boys’ study hall. 

“ My dear students, ” he said, ‘‘ I wish to claim your at- 
tention for a few minutes. ” 

Books were closed, there was a shifting of positions, and 
that slight hushed bustle indicative of a lively expectation 
of something unusual. Among the boys in general, little 
Wii'i known of the exciting events of the day : just enough 
to whet curiosity. 

“ Some very sad and some very noble things have taken 
place to-day, ” continued the President. “ Of the latter I 
shall say nothing at present. But of the former it is my 
duty to speak. For several years back, it has been a .sub- 
ject of joy and thanksgiving to the prefects in this college, 
that downright bullying has been almost unknown amongst 
the boys under their care. Occasional instances of it have 
occured ; but the general goodness of the students as a 
whole has served as an effectual antidote against its gaining 
giound. This year, however, a new spirit has crept in. 
To-night, I trust, that spirit shall be effectually laid. For 
some time, bullying has been going on, quietly and secretly 
at first, but bolder and more open as it has met with no 
check. This wretched state of affairs has been begotten 
and fostered by one crowd under the leadership of Charles 
Richards. Richards please step forward. State in public 
that you acknowledge your evil conduct, and, in the name 
of your comrades, beg pardon of all. ” 

Richards, who had been forewarned of what he was ex- 
pected to do, came forward, and made a public apology 
with evident sincerity. 

“ I said, ” continued the President, when Richards had 


106 


I'EKCY M YKK, OR 


resumed his scat, “ that Richards was the leader. But my 
expression was not quite accurate : I should rather say the 
nominal leader. The true leader is George Peters. ” 

There was a perceptible movement, and a sort of catch- 
ing of breath that ran like a wave through the study-hall. 
The announcement was a general surprise. Peters, it was 
clear, had played his part well. 

“ For the past hour I have thought and prayed concern- 
ing this matter. By keeping Peters amongst us lie 
might be brought to a better course: but if, in so doing, I 
injure the characters of others- — knowing him as I now 
know him — what answer shall I make before the throne of 
God ? I have come to the conclusion that it is my first 
duty to keep good boys good, though I be obliged to lose a 
few boys or bven many who might in time be bettered. 
This is not a reform school. And more ! ” said the Presi- 
dent raising his voice, “such conduct as Peters has been 
guilty of pursuades me that he should not associate a day 
longer with the pupils of St. Maures. Peters, come here. ” 
The unhappy boy approached. 

“ Here is a ticket for Kansas City. The train leaves in 
about twenty minutes. A dispatch is now on its way no- 
tifying your guardian that you will arrive in Kansas City 
by the night train. I am sorry for you, my boy. May 
God give you grace to do better— Kow go ! ” 

Tremendous sensation among the students, as Peters go- 
ing to his desk, took his hat and left the study-hall for ever, 
“ I cannot ref rain, ” added the President, “ notwithstand- 
ing what I said at first, from speaking of the noble conduct 
that two of your number — and their absence from the 
study-hall is my only excuse for speaking — have to-day dis- 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


107 


played. One, in the defence of a smaller boy, resisted 
single-handed this band of bullies. No one condemns quar- 
reling more than I ; but there are occasions when it is 
noble. We should ever stand up for the weak and op- 
pressed. The other in the face of pain and bodily sickness 
made a journey of over four miles, and almost at the risk 
of his own life, saved by timely warning two of his com- 
panions from threatened injury. Such acts as these are 
most' grateful, most sweet to us who have given our lives 
to educating youth. Years of toil, years of sorrow, years 
mixed with many negrets and disappointments are compen- 
sated, when we see our work showing itself in love and he- 
roic charity, in virtue all beautiful and unselfish.” , 

Little dreaming of these encomiums on themselves, the 
party in the infirmary were having, as Harry Quip styled 
it, “ a high old time. ” Tom and Harry, to do them- jus- 
tice, had capital appetites after their long excursion ; and 
the service was indeed, as the brother had promised, some- 
thing extraordinary. How the buttered toast did disap- 
pear ! And the eggs ! But the jam ! — well, I shall say 
nothing on that matter, lest the gentle reader may think I 
wish to slander the young trio. 

The good infirmarian compelled Tom to tell the whole 
story over again — he had heard it already from Percy— 
and then called upon Quip to narrate it, which that young 
gentleman did with some interpolations very creditable to 
his imagination, but very astonishing to his hearers who 
were kept quite busy contradicting him, and keeping him 
down to facts. The brother’s delight knew no bounds. 

“ It’s as good as a book, ” he said, rubbing his hands. 
“ If I had time, I’d write it out and publish it. ” 


108 


PEtlCY WYKK, OR 


Harry Quip was in great form on this memorable eVe* 
liing. He told funny stories until the room rang with 
laughter- — Percy’s sweet, silvery voice the above rest. Our 
little hero was too weak to do the meal justice. 
Tom and Harry more than supplied his deficiencies in this 
respect. But how he did laugh ! In spite of his aching- 
limbs, he beamed with joy. When, at length, the conver* 
sation began to flag, nothing would do him but to sing a 
song. 

“ Aren’t you too tired to sing ?” queried Tom. 

“ O, la! no. It refreshes me to sing. ” 

“ And it makes me infinitely weary, ” said Harry with 
an eye twinkling the contradiction to his words. 

“ Well, here’s something in honor of oUr host the 
brother. — And Percy, with much feeling gave Moore’s 
beautiful : “ Hara that once through Taro’s Halls. ” 

The effect upon the infirmarian was marked. As he lis- 
tened, his old eyes kindled with enthusiasm till they be- 
came dimmed with tears. 

“ Are you from Ireland, boy ? ” he asked when Percy’s 
voice had ceased. 

“ Not directly, ” answered Percy. “ I’ve come most of 
the way though. I’m from Baltimore ; but my mamma 
comes from there.” 

“ Well, ” sai^ the enthusiastic brother, “ I didn’t think 
anyone away from the old sod could sing like that. ” 

The talking and laughing resumed right merrily. 

“ Boys, said Percy W’hen the hour hand of the clock 
W’as hard upon the number nine, “do you know I think 
this is a punishment to my vanity. ” 

“ What?” asked Quip innocently. “The supper?”' 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


109 


" Of course not, you tease. I mean my sore legs. ” 

“ How’s that ? ” asked Tom. 

“ Well, you know I used to dance a great deal with my 
sisters, and I was very vain of my skill. But, ” he added 
ruefully, “ now I’ll never be vain of my legs again. ” 

“ After that remark. ” said the brother, “ I think you 
had all better go to bed. ” 


CHAPTER XIL 


IN WHICH PERCY FINDS HIMSELF ON THE SICK LIST. 

When Percy awoke next morning, the sun was up and 
shining brightly through the infirmary windows. He 
made an attempt to arise, but discovered, to his astonish- 
ment, that he was scarcely able to turn in his bed. 

Tranquilly resigning himself to the situation, he made 
the sign of the cross, and recited his mornine prayers; 
which he had scarcely concluded when the brother entered 
bearing on a tray, tea and toast, eggs and beefsteak. 

‘‘ What a lazy boy you are,” he said. “ At your age, 
you should rise with the lark. Jump up. put on your 
clothes, and take a run about the grounds and get an 
appetite for breakfast.” ' 

“ The spirit is willing,” said Percy with a smile, “ but 
the flesh is weak ? And besides I don’t think my appetite 
needs so much care at present.” 

The brother bolstered him into a sitting position, and set 
the tray beside him on a small table. 

“ Now help yourself.” 

“ Brother, I want to ask you a question. Don’t you 
think it looks queer for a boy of my age and size to go 
around with his hair hanging down to his shoulders.” 

“ It’s very pretty perhaps,” answered the infirmarian 
cheerfully, “ but it is certainly uncommon here.” 

“ That’s just what I’ve been thinking,” said Percy re- 
flectively. “ And besides, it isn’t convenient for a boy ; 
though I suppose it may be all right for girls. It gets in 


MAKING A BOY OP HIM. 


Ill 


the way so often, you know. Sometimes ^vhen I am play- 
ing catch, my hair comes tumbling over my eyes, and that 
makes me muff worse than I would do otherwise. Indeed, 
if I didn’t have hair at all, I don’t think I’d hold one ball 
in twenty — I have such butter-fingers, as Tom says. 
I think I’ll have it cut short. I don’t want people to 
think I’m proud.” 

“ Very good,” said the brother, who had listened to these 
naive confessions with ill-suppressed amusement. “ When 
you’re limber enough to leave the infirmary. I’ll cut your 
hair myself.” 

Percy contrived to make a fair breakfast, which he had 
hardly finished, when who should enter but Charlie 
Richards. 

“ Why, how do you do, sir,” said Percy in some astonish- 
ment. “ Won’t you take a seat? Do, bring a chair over 
here by my bed, I regret that I am unable to rise.” 

The invalid was quite serious, as with the grand air of a 
young prince, he poured forth his apologies, and made his 
polite requests. 

Richards, somewhat confused by this anomalous, recep- 
tion, brought a chair beside Percy, and seated himself. 

“ Percy, I’ve come to ask your pardon,” he began. “ I’m 
awfully ashamed of myself, and I’m very glad you spoiled 
our mean plot. Would you mind shaking hands ?” 

“ Certainly not,” answered Percy warmly, “ I’m very 
glad you and I have come to be friends ; and I guess it’s 
mostly my fault that you haven’t liked me. I’m so stuck 
up, you know. I came here like a young pea-cock, and 
vstrutted around as if I weren’t a boy at all. I’m not one 
bit surprised now that the boys teased me, and pulled my 


112 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


hair sometimes, and threw it over my eyes when I was try- 
ing to catch a ball. I’m sure they wanted to teach me, for 
they were nearly always so good-natured. Indeed, my 
only surprise is that they didn’t plague me more.” 

Percy was entirely serious. Like the noble hearted child 
he was, he had a habit of looking upon everything from 

the bright side, and even those of the very thoughtless or 

♦ 

cruel boys who had shown him unkind ness, he had come to 
look upon as his benefactors. 

'• Aren’t you making fun of me ?” asked Richards, 

“ No, indeed ! — but I hope you’re not going to be 
punished ?” 

“ No : but I ought to be. Tom Playfair has begged me 
off.” 

“ Oh ! it’s so like Tom,” said Percy with enthusiasm. 
“ He’s the best boy I ever read about. If Pancratius were 
alive to-day, he’d be something like Tom. I know he 
would.” 

“ Indeed, he is a splendid fellow,” said Richards 
earnestly. “ And I wish I had got to know him when I 
first came here, instead of falling in with Peters. You 
know he’s been expelled, don’t you ?” 

“ What !” said Percy. 

Richards, who was a fluent talker, related graphically 
the last night-’s scene in the study-hall. 

“ Poor fellow,” said Percy sadly. “We must pray for 
him. How his mamma must feel about it.” 

“ He has no mother, he told me once : she died when he 
was little more than a baby.” 

“ O, dear, dear ! no wonder he wasn’t a very good boy. 
I’m sure if it hadn’t been for my mamma and my sisters to 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


113 


care for me, I’d have been a villain. I know I would. It 
almost makes me cry sometimes, when I think of poor 
boys growing up without a mother’s love, and with no one 
to take the mother’s place. They have such poor chances.” 

“ It is indeed hard,” assented liichards. 

“ And then to think of those boys not of our faith, who 
have no mother here, and no mother Mary in heaven. No 
Blessed Virgin to help them, no mother at all.” 

“ I’m going to try to join the sodality,” said Richards. 
“ I haven’t been what I ought to be, so far. In fact, I 
haven’t used a pair of beads for over a year.” 

“ O, gracious !” exclaimed Percy, “ no wonder you fell 
into bad company.” 

“ Well, I’ve learned a few things the last few days,” 
Richards resumed, “ and I’m going to make a new start.” 
“ Do,” said Percy earnestly, “ and I’m sure we’ll be good 
friends.” 

Contrary to prevailing custom, there were no games go- 
ing on in the yard after breakfast. The students were 
grouped into two crowds, one about Harry Quip, the other 
about Tom, each of whom was holding forth with eloquence 
on Percy’s great achievement. 

“ I used to think he wasn’t much of a boy,” said Tom, 
“but now I don’t think I’m half as much of a boy as he is.” 

Greatly to Tom’s delight, the prefect of studies, sum- 
moning him before studies, informed him that he might 
absent himself from Latin and Greek schools for the pres- 
ent (Tom was leader in both these branches) and give the 
time to teaching Percy. 

Percy was, if possible, even more pleased. Sitting up in 
bed, when his young professor had inaugurated class, he 


114 


PERCY AVYKN, OR 


tattled off the five declensions, the adjectives of three, two 
and one endings, the personal, possessive, and demonstra- 
tive pronouns — everything, in fact, up to the verb. 

“ You know it like a book,” said professor Tom, “ and I 
must say that I am — ahem ! — more than — ahem ! gratified. 
Now let’s apply your knowledge. We’ll begin with some- 
thing easy. What’s the Latin for rose ?” 

“ Rosar 

“ Exactly, genitive rosae, of the first declension, and 
feminine, because words of the first declension have a way 
of being always feminine. And for moon f” 

“ Luna:^ 

“Quite correct,” said the professor gravely. “And 
from luna comes lunatic and lunacy, which is a learned 
way of saying moonstruck. Now say this, and be careful 
about it, or you’ll choke — To the roses'of the moon.” 

“ To-the-rosae-of-the-/wwa,” said Percy innocently. 

The professor began laughing, and turned away his head 
to recover himself : he considered it unprofessional to 
laugh ill the face of his pupil. 

“ Not correct, Percy. Look here, are there any articles 
in the Latin language ?” 

“ O, that’s a fact,” said Percy. “ Now I’ve got it sure. 
To rosae of luna. There, now !” 

“ That’s a little better. But what is ‘ to ’ a sign of ?” 

“ Of the dative case.” 

“Just so: now we’re getting there. And then what is 
‘ of ’ a sign of ?” 

“ The genitive.” 

“ Precisely. And in Latin instead of using ‘ to ’ or ‘ of ’ 
which are not Latin words at all, but common English, we 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


115 


simply put the word in the proper case. 

“ O, what a goose I was,” said Percy. “Now I under- 
stand the whole matter — Basis lunaeJ^ 

“ You’re there now. Now say — to the rose of the 
moons.” 

“ Rosae lunavum^' 

Tom twisted these words in all possible ways, then threw 
in an adjective, then, a verb, and having an uncommonly 
bright pupil to deal with, he succeeded, within the short 
space of one hour, in initiating Percy into the mystery of 
Latin cases and agreement. 

“ You’re a good pupil, Percy. For your next lesson take 
the Indicative mood of the verb ‘ esse,’ to be.” 

' “ Very good. But, Tom, I don’t like the way of chang- 
ing the nouns in Latin for every case. In English, it’s 
much simpler. We keep the noun the same, but make the 
difference by using * to ’ or ‘ for’ or ‘ with ’ or some such lit- 
tle word.” 

“ I don’t know that it’s so much easier,” answered Tom. 

“ Did you ever hear a boy of foreign birth struggling 
with English prepositions and expressions?” 

“ No ; do they find it hard ?” 

“ I should say so. The other day John Boes, a German 
boy in our class, who boards in St. Maure’s village, told 
our teacher that he had lost his written theme under the 
way to school.” 

“ Oh ! what a funny expression.” 

“ Isn’t it ? And he told me, once I got talking with 
him, that he lived by his uncle’s house, and that he took 
dinner by his grandmother every day out of the week.” 

“Oh! my!” 


116 


1‘EllCY WYKK, OR 


“ And in one of his class — compositions describing 
spring, he wrote the little chickens run around rapidly, 
and stuff themselves full of green grass.” 

Percy laughed so that be shook every nerve and muscle, 
and was minded by their soreness to restrain himself. 

“ And in another of his compositions, which I shall 
never forget,” continued Tom, “he described the way 
he spent one of his holidays. It was short, but interesting, 
so I learnt it by heart. It ran this way — I stood up from 
my bed at a quarter behind six, and I washed my eyes out 
and my neck off’ and combed down my hair. I spent the 
rest of the day by my grandmother in the country, who 
wears green spectacles.” 

Percy could hardly restrain himself from violent 
laughter. His sense of fun was keen, and Tom’s imitative 
powers were fairly good. 

But all fun aside, Tom was correct in his opinion. Boys 
of foreign birth, in learning English, have great difficulty 
in handling prepositions and connecting words. The Latin 
tongue with its clearly defined cases, and set rules of 
grammar, they find to be far more easy. 

In the afternoon, the private lessons were resumed ; and 
Percy’s progress was most encouraging to the learned pro- 
fessor. 

“If you -stay here another week,” said Tom, “you’ll 
know more Latin than I.” 

Next day, Percy received a visit from Mr. Middleton. 

“How’s the young tramp?” he enquired. 

“ O, I’m just splendid!” answered Percy. “ Everybody’s 
so nice and kind. And see what a fine easy chair I’m in. 
I can notice my improvement every hour almost. To- 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


117 


day, 1 found I could walk a little, and in a few daj's or so, 
my legs v\dll be good or rather as bad as ever.” 

“ Don’t you find it lonesome here ?” 

“ O, dear, no. Tom and 1 have grand Latin classes. 
He’s given me four lessons already, of an hour each, and 
I’m now nearly through the verb amo : and have already 
begun translating thfe Hutorice SaaiB. I’ve made out the 
first six chapters by myself. Then, you know, when I get 
tired studying, I’ve got Dion and the Sibyls. It reminds 
me of Ben Hur : both of them are splendid books.” 

“ It’s a great gift to like good reading,” said the prefect, 

whether sick or well, we can always read. For myself, 
I must say that books have lent happiness to many of my 
spare hours.” 

“ That’s so,” said Percy, who, it should be remembered, 
previous to coming to St. Maures, had associated almost 
entirely with persons older than himself. “ A really good 
book brings us into good company. When I’ve been read- 
ing about noble and brave men, I felt just as if I had been 
spending my time with them.” 

‘‘ Yes: but the bother is that the reverse is equally true. 
Those boys who are constantly reading about low characters 
and vile conduct come from their books as if they had been 
in evil company. These cheap detective and Indian stories 
— many of them, at least — d5 more harm than people in 
general imagine. I wish all bojs were of your way of 
thinking, Percy. Some won’t read anything unless they 
know that there are Indians to be killed, or trains to be 
robbed, or mysterious and blood-cui-dling murders to be 
explained.” 

Mamma says that people like such stories only because 


118 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


they’ve been trained badly. She says that all boys are 
naturally good, and religious, and naturally love what is 
brave and beautiful and noble : but by being led to con- 
sider fighting as brave, and slang as witty, they look upon 
everything the wrong way — ‘ from the seamy side,’ she 
used to say.” 

“ Your mamma is right. I wish all the mammas’ in the 
land had her ideas.” 

“ O, Mr. Middleton, she’s coming here during the Xmas 
holidays. I want to introduce you. I know she’ll like 
you ever so much.” 

“ Indeed !” 

“ O, yes, indeed. I like you, Mr. Middleton ” — Percy, 
be it remembered, was by no means bold or forward. It 
was in beautiful simplicity, he thus spoke to the prefect — 
just as he was wont to speak to mother and sisters. “ And 
I want you to know all my sisters. They are nice girls : 
but they weren’t one bit kinder to me at home than you’ve 
been here.” 

“Well, good bye,” said the prefect laughing. “I’m* 
bashful and not used to being complimented, so I’d better 
retire. When you feel very grateful to me again, please 
pay your gratitude out in prayer for me.” 

“ O, indeed, I will. I do pray for you every day, Mr. 
Middleton, and I intend keeping it up. And I’ll get my 
sisters to join in too. They’re far better at it than I am.” 

“Well, good bye.” 

And the prefect departed wondering. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


“ FROM GRAVE TO GAY ” — A SERIOUS CONVERSATION POL‘ 
LOWED BY A GAME OF FOOT-BALL. 

It was the afternoon of the eighth day since Percy’s en- 
trance into the infirmary. He was now in good health, 
but, as a matter of prudence, was still kept on the sick-list. 

Tom entered to give his last private lesson in Latin. He 
found Percy reading a letter from home. 

“ You’re just in time, Tom ; here’s a message for you. 
It’s from sister Mary. She says — ‘ Tell your obedient little 
friend Tom Playfair that we are all full of gratitude to him 
for the kindness and pains-taking he has bestowed on our 
dear little brother. If prayers and good wishes may help 
him on, they shall never be wanting. ’ And heie’s some- 
thing else, Tom. ” 

He handed Tom a lace picture of the Blessed Virgin. 

“ It’s from Minnie. ” 

“Minnie!” 

“ Yes : she’s my youngest sister, only six years old. She 
wants sister Mary to let me know that she likes Tom Play- 
fair better than all her sisters, except perhaps. Sister Mary. 
(She has her doubts even about this exception.) And she 
wants it known to the whole family that if she’s not allowed 
a more liberal allowance of cake and candy, she’ll run off, 
and tell Tom Playfair on them — O ! she’s so funny, Tom. 
Sometimes she makes a regular speech. She can talk won- 
derfully well for a child of six. ” 


120 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


“ Wlr.it must the rest of them be, ” thought Tom, “ if 
the baby girl can make speeches! If ever -any o^ them 
come this way, I think I’ll run away myself. ” 

Isay, Percy,” ne continued aloud, “ there’s cue thing 
about you which has puzzled me a good deal. ” 

‘‘ Indeed! you sur,.iise me. I never saw you look much 
astonished of late at anything I said or did. I thought you 
had got used to me.” 

So I have, in a way. But there’s one thing, I can’t ex- 
plain. M )5t boys cjming from home to boarding-school 
for the first time, get dreadfully homesick, and lose their 
cheerfulness. Now I haven’t noticed any change in you 
at all. ” 

“ Well, it is funny : I thought I would be. , But I be- 
lieve I can explain i^. It’s this way. In the first place, I 
fell in with good boys, and kind ones too, at once. They’ve 
treated me so nicely that sometimes I’m positively 
ashamed of myself ; for I know I don’t deserve it at all. 
Then besides, there’s the novelty of fishing, swimming, 
base-ball, and all sorts of games. It’s like a new world to 
me. ” 

“ Yes, that’s all right for the first month or so, ” said 
Tom. “ But what about this last week in the infirm- 
ary ? You haven’t had the novelty of out-door games, 
and besides you were often alone. I was sure you’d get 
home sick in here. ” 

Percy paused before answering. 

“ Well, Tom, I don’t mind telling you ; but I’ve got a 
friend, I always try to keep by me. And when I feel in- 
clined to be sad, I do what my mother advised me to do 
when we bade each other good bye — I talk to it. See ! ” 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


121 


He drew from his pocket, a morocco case, opened it, and 
disclosed to Tom’s eyes, a beautiful picture of the Sacred 
Heart. 

Tom’s face expressed genuine pleasure. 

“ That’s a capital idea, ” he said. 

“ Indeed it is, ” assented Percy. “ Sister Mary gave me 
it. And really I find by exnerience that a few words with 
the Heart of Jesus do give me strength. ” 

“ I’ve got a plan something like that myself, ” said Tom, 
as he drew a rather worn scapular of the Sacred Heart from 
his pocket. “ John Donnel gave me the idea. It’s not 
much to look at, I know. But when I feel like getting an- 
gry or sulky, or grow tired studying, or anything goes 
wrong, I just put my hand in my pocket, and catch hold of 
it. That brings me to time regularly. ” 

One week later, if we may anticipate, Tom received a 
small parcel by the mail. It contained a morocco case en- 
closing a picture, both identical with Percy’s. On a silp 
of paper accompanying the gift were the words — “ With 
the compliments of Mary Wynn. ” 

“ I’m glad to learn that you know something about the 
devotion to the Sacred Heart, ” continued Tom ; “ for I in- 
tend speaking to you on this very point. Some of us boys 
have a little association in private. Keenan is at the head 
of it, and Donnel, Quip, Whyte, Ruthers, Granger, and 
eight or nine more are members. We all observe certain 
easy rules, and it seems to do a great deal of good. The 
President of the college knows of it, and likes it very 
much. ” 

“ You don’t say ! ” exclaimed Percy. “ That’s just splen- 
did ! No wonder so many of the boys here are so good ; — 


122 


PERCY AVYKN, OR 


and so kind, too, to queer people like me. Of course, Til 
be delighted to join it. ” 

Tom explained the ruh^s in a few words. 

The writer has at his hand the whole scheme of this little 
association, with the names of all the members up to a cer- 
tain year. But as the association may, for aught he knows, 
be still in existence, he thinks it prudent not to infringe on 
their privacy by divulging their simple rules. 

“ And now for our lesson, ” pursued Tom. “ We’ve 
seen nearly everything iji Latin as far as the class has gone, 
except a few rules in Syntax, and ninety- five lines of Viri 
Romae. I really think you can afford to take a rest this 
afternoon. Even with ordinary study, I’m sure you’ll be 
up with the class in a few weeks. ” 

“ Very good. I like Latin immensely, Tom, since you’ve 
given me a good start ; and now I’m really glad I had to 
take this week in the infirmary. I’ve been able to give all 
my time to Latin, and I’m well enough up in all the other 
branches of our class. ” 

“ It’s about time to come out into the fresh air though, ” 
said Tom. “I want to show you something about foot-ball. 
It’s been cool weather ever since the night you came in, 
and it’s too chilly for base-ball any longer. ” 

Next morning, Percy, with his hair, close-cropped, made 
his appearance in the yard. He was received with almost an 
ovation. The students crowded around him, eagerly press- 
ing forward to shake his hand. What with the honors thus 
showered upon him, and what with the feeling that he must 
look “ so queer ” with his golden hair cut short, Percy 
blushed so violently,, and became so confused, that honest 
John Donnel with a' fine delicacy forced his way through 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


123 


the crowd, caught him up, and carried him off. 

“ Come on, boys, ” he cried, “ we’re going to play foot- 
ball, and Percy’s on my side. ” 

There were at each end of the yard two posts seven feet 
high, joined together at the top by a crop-bar seven feet in 
length. These were the “ goals ” of the respective sides : 
and it was the object of each of the contending forces to 
keep the ball from entering his own goal, and to kick it, 
if possible, into that of his opponents. The foot-ball was to 
be touched only with the feet, with one exception. This 
was when a ball kicked in the air, could be secured before 
it touched the ground. In this case it could be “ punted ” 
— struck with the fist — or again the catcher had the privi- 
lege of running with it, if he could. But even then, in de- 
livering it, he was obliged to put it on the ground and 
kick it. Kicked from his hands it would be a “ foul, ” and 
should it reach the goal, the play would not count. 

These rules with others less important, were quickly ex- 
plained to Percy, and he was assigned a station midway be- 
tween the two goals. 

“You see, ” said Tom conducting him to his position, 
“ the chances are you’ll miss the ball every time you try to 
kick it : but it doesn’t matter so much, far off from the 
goal. If we were to put you up closer to Keenan’s goal, 
it wouldn’t matter so much either, only you’d run the risk 
of getting your legs skinned in a crowd.” 

“ But wouldn’t it be better for the first time, if I were 
to play near our own goal ? ” 

“ Not by any manner of means. If you were to miss a 
kick there, you might lose the game on us. Now you know 
where you’re to stand, come back. Now, keep your eyes 


124 


PEECY WYNN, OK 


open; Donnel’s going to take first kick. ” 

The ball was placed about fifty feet in front of John’s 
goal. Each side put itself in position : Donnel’s side 
(which for convenience, we will call our side) a little be- 
hind the 'ball, and Keenan’s back of a fixed line fronting 
their goal. * 

“ Ready ? ” cried Donnel. 

‘‘ Kick away, ” answered the captain of the opposing 
side. 

Moving back a few feet, Donnel ran forward, and with a 
vigorous kick sent the ball spinning into the air. 

The scene of life and animation which immediately en- 
sued beggars description. Percy was utterly amazed. Just 
a moment before, he had been standing in a crowd of some 
forty or fifty boys, all perfectly quiet, facing an equally 
large crowd, which save their bright, eager eyes seemed to 
be without life or motion. Now all was changed. As the 
Rugby ball rose in the air, a terrific cheer broke from a 
hundred lusty throats, then a quick patter and stamping of 
feet, and a hundred lads jostling, crowding, hastening for-- 
ward in pursuit of the ball. 

“ Come on, Percy, ” roared Tom putting a period to the 
novice’s contemplation. “ Don’t stand there star-gazing : 
look alive. ” 

Catching him by the arm, Tom rather unceremoniously 
hurried him forward to his place. 

All this was enacting while the ball was still in the air. 
It was going straight towards our opponent’s goal. But 
one of the goal-keepers, Kennedy, a tall, thin youth, made a 
spring into the air, and caught it on the fly. 

“Run it, run it, ” shouted his side. 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


125 


“ Drop it, drop it, ” yelled our fellows, who were uiaking 
for Kennedy with a speed which promised to settle the 
question out of hand. 

Kennedy was evidently unused to the game — he hesi- 
tated now in foot-ball, the man or boy who hesitates is lost. 
He slowly made up his mind to “ run it, ” but before he 
had barely taken one step forward, Donnel was upon him, 
and with a clever rap sent the Rugby flying out of his 
hands. 

But it was another thing to kick the ball in, — lying as it 
was just in front of Keenan’s goal. As it fell to the 
ground our side came up in great numbers, and cheered on 
by their leader and his lieutenants, made vigorous efforts to 
clear the ball through the opposing ranks. 

“Stand by the goal ! ” roared the enemy. And they did 
stand by it to the full of their skill. 

In the meantime, Percy wondered what had become of 
the ball ? There was no sight of it. Nothing to be seen 
but a compact mass of boys, kicking, pushing, pantinsr, 
shouting — all earnest, — none angry. 

Tom, stationed a few yards to Percy’s right, was amus- 
ing himself by practicing handsprings. 

Percy interrupted his exercise with the question : 

“ Where’s the ball, Tom ? ” 

“ That’s what everybody’s trying to find out, ” said Tom. 

“ Goodness me ! ” continued Percy, shaking back his 
hair in imagination — such is the force of habit — “ I never 
thought that so large a crowd of boys could pack them- 
selves up so tightly. How many are there, Tom ? ” 

“ Everybody except you, me, Johnson there, and our six 
goal-keepers. About ninety in all. Keep your eyes open 


126 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


Percy ; the ball may come flying your way any moment. 

But the jam and push still continued. 

“ Crowd it out ! Crowd it out ! ” rang the battle-cry of 
our opponents. 

“Force it in ! force it in ! ” roared our side. 

“ Playfair! ” shouted Donnel above the din, “ come on 
and help us, bring up all the goal-keepers except two ; we 
must crowd it in. ” 

“Stay here, Percy, ” said Tom. He added in a much 
louder voice : “ All of you goal-keepers come up on a run 

except Ruthers and Sommers. ” 

But before these words of command were well out of 
Tom’s mouth, the ball came with a bound out of the 
crowd, amid a hurricane of applause from the enemy. As 
the fates had arranged matters, it was coming through the 
straight towards Percy, who stood looking at it in wonder 
and awe. 

Our side was filled with dismay. 

“ Run back to the goal — quick!” yelled Donnel. 

Suddenly another cheer arose, drownding out the tri- 
umphant clamoring of the enemy. Tom Playfair, antici- 
pating Percy’s inability to act, had on a dead run captured 
the ball within a foot of the ground, and was now dashing 
on towards the goal. 

So quickly had all this come to pass, that the boys, who 
had been innermost in the pack, had scarce fully disen- 
gaged themselves. Hence only a few of the enemy were in 
Tom’s vicinity. 

“ Head him off! Stop him ! Take the ball from him ! ” 
cried those of the enemy nearest the goal, as they pressed 
forward. 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


127 


But not only was Tom a speedy runner, he was an ex- 
pert, too, in the art of dodging. Already by his adroitness 
had lie given three of the enemy the slip, and in success- 
fully avoiding a fourth, he ran with full force into a fifth 
(unintentionally, of course) and sent him sprawling. He 
was now within fifty feet of the goal, and had no time to 
lose, for the enemy were ui?on him close. Flashing the 
ball to the ground, he gave ir a straight kick! It made di- 
rectly towards the goal. There was a dismal groan from 
the enemy, followed in almost the same breath by their 
shout of joy. The ball had overshot the goal-posts, 

Keenan ran back and secured the ball, which was now 
out of bounds.” According to the rules of the game, as 
played at St. Maure’s, he was now entitled to bring the 
ball forward to an imaginary straight line from the goal, 
and to give it a ‘‘free kick,” i. e., without being molested by 
our men. who could not touch the ball till it had left his 
hands. 

Once put in motion, the scuffling and pushing began 
afresh ; but this time the ball was not lost under hurrying 
feet. Indeed it was not suffered to touch ground at all. 
Beaten from hand to hand, or rather from fist to fist, it 
seemed to play like a dimmed glory above the players’ 
heads. One boy with a vigorous blow would send it 
towards the enemy’s goal, and another, jumping into the 
air and reaching it with his hand, would drive it back. So, 
for some minutes the ball seemed to fly from hand to hand, 
like a butterfly in a garden of flowers. Suddenly it touched 
ground, and before one could so much as take a breath, a 
quick kick from Keenan sent it high over the heads of the 
j)u liters straight towards Percy. To the surprise of every- 


128 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


one, especially to his own, Percy caught it. 

“ Hurrah ! ” roared Tom. “ Run, Percy, and kick it as 
soon as any of the other fellows get near you. ” 

Percy^s eyes shone with excitement. He looked towards 
Keenan’s goal, and saw the whole path blocked with breath- 
less, hurrying boys. But towards our goal, he perceived 
ail was clear. 

“ Hurrah !” he shouted, and turning he set off with all 
speed towards his own goal. 

“ Hold on, Percy ! come back — the other way ! ” bawled 
* Tom. But his words were drowned in the general noise, 
and Percy in his innocent but misdirected zeal sped on. 
No one being prepared for this strange proceeding, he was 
actually within a few feet of our goal before his progress 
was arrested, having, to the general astonishment, success- 
fully evaded two of his own men, Johnson and Sommers. 

But when he came face to face with Harry Quip, he 
stopped of his own free will. 

“ Here, Harry, ” he said, “ What shall I do with it ? ” 

“Give it to me, quick, ” said Harry ; and taking the ball, 
he put it to the ground hurriedly, and sent it whirling on 
high back to the middle of the yard. 

“ What did you do that for ? ” Percy inquired in great 
surprise. 

“ Look here, Percy, ” answered Harry, “ the object of 
this game isn’t to kick the ball anywhere, or run anywhere 
with it ; nor is it to kick it toward any goal, or run it 
towards any goal. The idea is to get it through the goal of 
the other side. Just now you were playing against us ; 
and you ran so well with those stiff old legs of yours, that 
you nearly lost us the game. ” 


MAKIXG A BOY OF HIM. 


129 


“ You don’t say ! ” Percy exclaimed. “ O, I’m so sorry ; 
you must excuse me this time, Harry. Next chance I get, 
you’ll see I’ll play right.” And Percy, with his ideas more 
coherently arranged on the subject of foot-ball, resumed his 
position in the field. 

He had scarcely taken his place, when another poean of 
excitement rang through the startled air. 

“Head him off” — “Pull him down Stop him” — 
“ Hold him ” — “ Catch him” — “ Keenan’s got the ball ! ” — 
“ Hurrah for Keenan ! ” 

Such were the excited voices that broke from the throng, 
as Keenen, with the ball locked in his arms, forced his way, 
panting and breathless towards our goal. 

Keenan was rather undersized for his years ; but he was 
of muscle all compact, and could run like a deer. With 
the force of a battering ram, he shot by several of our side. 
A few of our boys made weak attempts to arrest his course, 
but it was plain that they had but little heart to beard him 
directly. He was now nearing Tom’s station, and that 
young player, who was not easily frightened, made a bold 
dash at him. George took a quick turn to one side ; but 
his adversary was no less quick, and caught George’s arm, 
to which he held on grimly. But George was of uncom- 
mon strength, and redoubling his efforts, he went right on, 
dragging, almost carrying his assailant. The excitement, 
now at its high-water mark, became so contagious, that 
even Percy for the nonce became a spirited foot-ball player. 
In his turn he made a bold dash at Keenan, but, missing 
him, he chanced to catch Tom. 

The added weight was too much for Keenan. He lost 
liis balance, and fell back, the ball rolling to one side. Tom 


130 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


was up in an instant. He gave the ball a slight, but well 
aimed kick, sending it straight to Donnel, who stopping 
it with his hand, placed it in position, and before the enemy ' 
could guard home, sent it flying through their goal. The 
game was ours. 

Percy, then; without so much as kicking the ball — it was 
several weeks later before he acquired the knack — had been 
an important factor in the victory. 



CHAPTER XIV. 


IN WHICH MR. MIDDLETON READS A STORY — AND EXCITES 
MUCH INTEREST. 

It was now early in December. Time who treats ns as 
we treat him, had flown swiftly and pleasantly for our lit- 
tle friends. An unbroken round of play and study had 
developed both mind and body. For many, many days, 
not a single serious unpleasantness had marred the general 
good-feeling. With the departure of Peters, a local golden 
age seemed to have dawned. Richards had become one of 
the foremost boys in good. He had given up his former 
friends, aud was now constantly in the company of the 
best and most promising students. And to our young 
friends in particular, with whom he had become intimate, 
he proved to be an acquisition. It soon appeared that he 
was a boy of much general information. For his age he 
had read much. But this, in fact, had been at the root of 
many of his faults. He had not been carefully watched 
over at home ; and, following his bent, had given much of 
his time to reading cheap, sensational, juvenile stories, 
whieh without being always ill-intentioned or positively 
bad, hold up to their readers false ideals of beauty and of 
heroism. There are many earnest and generous natured 
boys, who without even perceiving it, are led astray through 
such writings. The harm is rarely done with the perusal of 
a single volume, or even of a second or a third : it is the 
joint result of many. 

One day Richards brought Mr. Middleton a cheap, pa- 
per-covered book, asking him whether he considered it fit 
reading. 


132 


PEECY WYNN, OR 


“ I never saw any harm in it myself, sir,” said Richards 
frankly. “ But since late events, I’ve come to think that 
my judgment isn’t so good on such subjects.” 

“ Thank you, Richards,” said Mr. Middleton. ‘‘ I am 
glad to see that you are in so earnest a temper. You are 
probably right in doubting. I think, on the face of it, 
that this book is far more dangerous than you can imagine, 
at present. However, I shall examine it more carefully, 
and give you an honest criticism.” 

The book was an account of a boys adventures at school 
and elsewhere. It was written in a crisp, clipped style, 
and represented the hero as a lad of sixteen, who feared 
nothing, who was witty, inventive, full of animal spirits, 
and, in short possessed apparently of every quality, capable 
of awakening the enthusiasm of young readers. 

It failed, however, to awaken Mr. Middleton’s sympathy, 
and on the following day towards the end of class he said, 
“I am going to read you a little story.” 

There was a buzz of enthusiasm, and a great shifting of 
positions. It is impossible for the average boy, while in 
the class room, to- hear the announcement of a story with 
equanimity. Every one brightens up, and adjusts himself 
Avhat he considers to be the most receptive attitude. Those 
in the back seats are perfectly wretched, unless allowed to 
move towards the front ; while those in front wish to get 
yet nearer the teacher’s desk. All crowd together, as far 
as the professor will admit, and glance sternly at any 
luckless youth who may chance to cough or make the 
least undue noise. There is a wondrous fascination for 
youngsters in a story. All boys are idealists. 

“Conticuere omnes, intentique ora tenebant.” “ And 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


183 


Mr. Micklletoii began his reading. It wr.s acl.aittrfidn 
the book which Richards had given him. The school, 
which the hero attended, was to have its yearly picnic. 
One of the professors, who spoke broken^ English, and was 
the butt of all the scholars, had signified his intention of 
attending on horse-back, but possessing no equestrian skill 
was very anxious to obtain a suitable steed. Here the 
funny hero came to the rescue. He persuaded the prc- 
fessor that he knew just what kind of a horse would suit 
him : then went to a livery stable and hired the most 
villainous nag in the establishment. Of course, a great 
many ludicrous adventures follow ; and the professor 
simply succeeds in escaping with life and limb. As Mr. 
Middleton reads of the professor’s predicament, all the 
boys seem amused, while many laugh heartily. Percy, the 
only exception, seems to be pained. 

“ So you laugh, do you ?” said the teacher throwing 
down the book. Well, what are you laughing at?” 

The smiles vanished under Mr. Middleton’s serious 
glance : everybody began to wonder whether there had not 
been some mistake in their approbation. 

“ I ask again, why did you laugh ? There must be some 
reason. You don’t laugh when a sum in fractions is ex- 
plained. You don’t laugh at the Latin verbs. Why did 
you laugh just now ?” 

“ I think,” said Harry Quip, who was seldom puzzled 
for an answer, “ we laughed because the story is written so 
funnily.” 

“ That’s good,” said the prefect. “ I am glad that you 
have a reason. So, then, it seems the story is funnily 
told. But now I ask, is the story itself really funny.” 


134 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


Ths class knit its brows — this was a hard question. 

Saddenly Percy’s hand went up. 

“ Well, Percy.” 

“ It seems to ml, Mr. Middleton, that the story itself is 
really not funny; but is made to appear so by the author’s 
manner of treating it.” 

“ That’s a very good answer indeed. You are quite 
right. Tlie story itself is very sad. And now, boys, let 
me tell you what you have been laughing at : you have 
been laughing at the rowdyish actions of a rowdy.” 

The boys manifested strong sensation. 

“ But don’t think I am angry or disappointed with you,” 
pursued Mr. Middleton. “ You are too young as yet to 
perceive the underside of such things at once. Just as a 
skilled counterfeiter can palm off his false money on many 
ordinary grown people, and on very intelligent children, 
so a writer may cause boys to accept as really good, what 
is, in point of fact, utterly vile.” 

Richards, who had given every word his utmost attention, 
here raised his hand. 

“ Well, Charlie?” 

“ Please, Mr. Middleton, show us how that story is bad. 

I began to see in a dim sort of way that what you say is 
true, but nothing is very clear to me.” 

“ Very good. Now let us consider what the substance 
of the story is. Here we have, to begin with, an awkward 
man, but still a teacher, and consequently entitled to the 
respect of the students. He wishes to ride to a picnic. 
The hero, knowing that the teacher is no horseman, prom- 
ises to procure him a gentle horse. He promises in all 
seeming sincerity. He lies. The story, then, is founded 


MAKING A BOV OF HIM. 


185 


on a lie. What does the hero actually do ? He hires a 
veritable spit-fire. Now, will some one ])lease answer me 
this question ? Suppose a man utterly ignorant of even 
the rudiments of horsemanship undertakes to mount a 
dangerous animal under the impression that it is quiet and 
tame, what will happen? What do you say, Sommers?” 

“The chances are that he’ll be killed.” 

“ And you, Percy ?” 

“•Q, dear, I can’t bear to think of it.” 

“ And you, Playfair ?” 

“ Well, if he weren’t killed, at least there’d be a good 
many chances to nothing that he’d be hurt — get his leg or 
his arm broken anyhow.” 

“ Just so. He might be killed — that is possible. But it 
would certainly be extraordinary, if he were to come off 
unhurt. In planning a trick, we have no right to trust our 
victim’s escaping serious evil through extraordinary 
chances. Now this jolly hero, who, according to the story, 
is wise enough to be responsible for his actions and old 
enough too, being sixteen, deliberately or at least recklessly, 
and for the sake of a laugh, imperils the limbs if not the 
life of a human being, of one who is over him in the al- 
most sacred capacity of his teacher.” 

The boys looked at each other : how the face of the story 
had already changed. 

“ This brings me back to the lie,” resumed Mr. Middle- 
ton after a short pause. “It was a lie told concerning 
very serious matter. It was a lie the telling of which 
might result, in its after effects, in a broken arm, or leg, in 
^long sickness, or even in death. Such a lie is indicative 
of gross thoughtlessness, it is unworthy of any story-book 
hero. 


136 


PI5RCY WYNX, OR 


And further, what is the result and object of this 
joke? Its object is to bring ridicule and insult upon a 
teacher, upon one who takes the place in a certain sense 
of parents. Its result is to subject him to all manner of 
indignities, to cause a crowd of boys to scoff and jeer at a 
)nan, who, whatever his short comings may have been, was 
still entitled to their respect and obedience.’’ 

“ But Mr. Middleton,” Harry Quip inquired, “ how was 
it we didn’t notice these things ourselves ? We all thought 
it was simply a funny story, and saw no great harm in it; 
now of course, we see it differently.” 

“The reason is simple enough, Harry. The author 
quite cleverly smooths over the real evil. In a counterfeit 
bill, only a sharp and practiced eye can detect the fraud. 
Now that you are young, many things that are wrong may 
escape you in such a story. In fact, to analyze such a 
passage as I have just read, supposes in a boy a power of 
reasoning which, as a rule, is developed later on in life. 
What is true of this book is true of thousands of the like 
publications. They are written in such wise as to catch 
the young imagination: but their effect in the long run is to 
cause boys unconsciously to admire what is ignoble, and 
sinful. I have known boys to read these books for a time, 
and not be corrupted. But they were warned betimes. Such 
reading indulged in continually cannot fail of distorting all 
that is truly noble in the best disposition.” 

Mr. Middleton spoke at some length on this point. His 
words produced a decided effect. Richards and Sommers, 
in particular, entered into a solemn agreement between 
themselves to give up the dime-novel et id genus omne for 
good and all. 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


137 


But the prefect’s words effected even more. It set the 
boys to looking up good books : and here Percy proved 
himself of real service. The amount he had read was 
indeed great, and so careful had his mother been in the 
selection of his books, that by a certain acquired delicacy 
of taste, he could now detect what was vile in juvenile 
literature, and perceive what was trne and beautiful. He 
it was of the entire class who had understood at once the 
underlying baseness of the picnic story. 

Under his direction, Tom, Harry and a number of their 
class-mates set about reading the choicest books for the 
young. So regular were they in their method, that their 
proceedings were virtually equivalent to a junior literary 
academy. Of a cold December recreation day, they would, 
with permission, assemble in a class room, and discuss with 
pleasure and profit their readings. Even Richards former 
misdirected pursuits in this line proved to be of some use. 
He brought up for discussion many of the incidents he had 
read and with the nobler ideals which their present course 
of reading, and the prefect’s instructions had given them, 
these young blue-scockings were quick to recognize the 
deformity of such writings. 

In short, while Percy had been transformed by his 
friends into something of a true boy, with a true boy’s love 
for out door sports, they in turn, following the law of action 
and reaction — had been transformed by him into lovers of 
books. He had received much, but he had given more. 

Since his first introduction to the reader, our little friend 
has changed not a little. His face has become fuller. 
But pretty as it formerly was in its delicacy and refine- 
ment, it is now beautiful in its rosy healthfulness. He is, 


138 


PERCY WYKN, OR 


if anything, a trifle stouter too. But his hands ! Ah ! — ■ 
Tom Playfair would now think twice before asking Percy 
to strike him straight from the shoulder. Percy, under 
Tom’s special direction and training, has been using box- 
ing-gloves very regularly for several weeks, and, in addi- 
tion, his hands have been hardened by continued exercise, 
his legs have been developed with much running: his 
whole constitution, in fine, has been built up and strength- 
ened by plenty of open-air life. He is still the same little 
gentleman, but he is more. 

A brook may run smoothly enough for a time ; but it 
will surely come sooner or later upon obstacles. So* life 
cannot slip by without troubles — even the best are not 
exempted. 

Percy just two days before Christmas met with an 
adventure which came very nigh 

But let us give it the benefit of a separate chapter. 


CHAPTER XV. 


IX WHICH PERCY FALLS FOUL OF THE VILLAGE YOUTH, 
AND IS COMPELLED TO “ RUN THE GAUNTLET. ” 

It was a bright, clear, crisp afternoon in December, as 
three stndents with linked arms, and gayly facing the bit- 
ing wind which brought a glow to their cheeks, set oflf at a 
swinging stride for the village of St. Maures. 

“ Only two more days ! ” said Donnel. 

“ Yes, ” assented Keenan. “ And then a great week of 
fun. There’ll be a hard, solid frost to-night, I think ; for 
it’s getting colder all the time. If it keeps on this way, 
the thermometer will sneak down below freezing point be- 
fore seven this evening. ” 

“0 I do hope so, ,’ chimed in Percy, the third member 
of this cheerful party. ‘‘My skates have come, and I’m so 
anxious to try them. ” 

“ You have never done any skating yet; have you?” 
asked Keenan. 

“ 0, dear, no. How could I ? My sisters couldn’t teach 
me that, you know. ” 

“ Well, we’ll see you through safely, ” said Donnel. “I 
can’t see what use a boy has for winter if he can’t skate. ” 

“ But I can slide, ” said Percy modestly. “ Still I must 
confess, I never did care much for winter. ” 

“ No wonder, ” Keenan remarked. “ A boy who can’t 
throw snow balls, or even make them, nor skate, nor go 
sleigh-riding, nor go hunting, can’t have much cause for 
liking freezing weather. For my part, I much prefer win- 
ter to summer. ” 


140 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


“ La ! you don’t say ! You astonish me ! ” Percy ex- 
claimed. 

“So do I,” put in Donnel. “Give me winter knee- 
deep in snow. Give me the winter winds wearily sighing, 
as Mr. Tennyson has it ; — give me — well, to come down a 
little bit — give me a good pair of skates, and let me go fly- 
ing along a frozen stretch of river, with the wind frolicking 
about my ears, and the frost trying for all it is worth to nip 
my nose, and I’m perfectly happy. ” 

“ And give me, ” said Keenan, “ a clear cold winter’s 
night with the moon and stars shining clear and keen — 
ever so much brighter than in summer. Then give me the 
ground covered with snow, and sparkling and twinkling 
in the fairy moonlight ; then let me hear rising upon the si- 
lence of the wintry night, the merry sleigh- jingles or some 
low deep bell, and I feel a — well I feel just immense. ” 

It should be remembered that our two friends are mem- 
bers of the poetry class. But Percy, though no poet, was 
by no means wanting in imagination. 

“ Indeed, George, ” he said softly, ” I have often felt the 
beauty of such a scene as you speak of. But there is one 
memory which gives it a still greater charm, and makes it 
more beautiful than any other scene. Whenever I have 
looked out of my window at home on such a night, another 
thought has always come to my mind. The bleak trees and 
the hills covered with snow have brought back the country 
about Bethlehem. The bright stars have reminded me of 
the wonderful star that the Magi followed, and the sharp 
cold, the dear Infant Jesus, who came to us in His love on 
just such a night. ” 

“ Honestly, ” said Donnel, “ some like thought has often 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


141 


occured to me ; — not so pretty as yours, though, Percy. 
And do you know, I really believe that winter with all its 
bleakness and sterility has come to be loved by thousands 
not least by us boys^ — because around with it comes chiist- 
mas with all the love and joy and good feeling of that sa- 
cred and happy time.” 

“ True, ” rejoined Keenan. “ Do you remember that 
ode of Horace’s on winter, which we translated in class 
about a month ago — 

‘ Vides ut alta stet nive caudidum 
Soracte, nec jam sustineant onus 
Sylvae laborantes, geluque 
Flumina constiterlnt acuto ’ 

I forget the rest. It is certainly a beautiful ode. But how 
little does it show of real love for winter. — ‘ Pile on the 
generous logs. Out with the yet more generous wine. Let’s 
keep warm, and eat, and drink, and enjoy ourselves by the 
hearth ’ that’s the idea of the whole ode. If Horace had 
but known the Christ as we do, what a grand poem he 
would have given us. Some of the most beautiful things 
in art and literature are inspired by the memory of Christ’s 
birth. ” 

“ Yes, ” said Percy, “ like Milton’s hymn on the nativity, 
which I like very much, though I can’t understand many 
parts of it. Then do you remember what Shakespeare says 
on this very subject ? — 

‘ Some say that ever ‘gainst that season comes 
Wherein our Savior’s birth is celebrated 
The bird of dawning singeth all night long : 

And then they say, no spirit can walk abroad ; 

The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, 

No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charming 
So hallowed and so gracious is the time. ’ ” 


142 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


“ Well, Percy, said Donnel, “ there’ll be no standing you 
by the time you get as high as the poetry class. Even now 
you out-poet the poets. Where did you learn all your 
quotations ? ” 

“ Sister Jane, my oldest sister, used to point out passages 
for me to memorize. ” 

• “ I wish I’d had a few sister Janes, when I was young, ” 
said Keenan. “ I’d know a little more. ” 

“ I’ve got three sisters at home, ” added John. “ But if 
ten sisters could do such great work with you, you wretched 
small boy, I really wish now that I had twenty-seven. ” 

Percy answered with a laugh: “Ten are very good, 
J )hii, but twenty-seven might be too much of a good 
thing. ” 

They were now walking along the principal street of the 
village. 

“ Well, ” added Percy, “ I’ll have to leave you now, if 
you’re going up to the shoe-store first. I’m going in here 
to get some gloves and things. So good bye. ” 

“ Take care of yourself, ” answered Donnel. 

Percy entered a dry-goods store, (in which butter, eggs, 
ploughs, watches and fiour were also sold) and made a few 
purchases. He then took a walk through the village, and 
not meeting with George or John concluded to return to 
the college alone. 

He had not gone very far, when he descried up the road 
a gathering of people near the house of one of the village 
doctors. His attention was at once engaged. What 
could be the matter ? 

The doctor’s house in those days — and for aught the 
writer knows, the doctor may still be there — stood quite 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


143 


alone, being distant some sixty rods or so from the body of 
the village. Percy with all the eager curiosity of youth, 
hastened forward. As he drew nearer, he discerned that 
the group, as far as could be seen, consisted entirely cf 
boys ; and that they were all strangers to him. Whatever 
might be the object that drew them together, it was clear 
that they were highly amused ; for they were gazing in- 
tently at sonae person or thing at their feet, and jeering 
and laughing noisily. 

Making his way- through the motley group, Percy’s eyes 
were greeted with a sight which moved him almost to 
tears. On the ground in a state of stupid intoxication, lay 
a man in the prime of life, or very little beyond it, his 
otherwise fine, intellectual face, marred by the animal ex- 
pression of one under the influence of mind-stealing liquor. 
Anyone, at all observant, could see at a glance that he was 
not an habitual drinker. Beside him, crushed and bat- 
tered, lay his hat. But sad as was this spectacle of degra- 
dation, it was raised to the pathetic by the presence of an- 
other element. Kneeling beside the man, and gazing earn- 
estly into his face, was a pretty, well-dressed child of nine 
or ten, his eyes filled with tears, his cheeks pale with fright 
and awe, his whole countenance expressive of dismay and 
bitter surprise. It was the son gazing on the father’s dis- 
grace. The school-books fallen heedlessly from his hands, 
and lying scattered about on the ground, indicated that the 
child had been on his way home from the village school. 
The irreverent surrounders were mainly his fellow-students, 
their numbers slightly swelled by several juvenile idlers of 
the village. 

“ Papa, papa, ” the child was sobbing as Percy came up. 


144 


PERCY WYNN, OH 


“ come home with me. O dear papa, come home ! ” 

It seemed hardly probable that the recumbent man was 
at all conscious of these words. 

“ Shake him up, ” suggested a rude voice. 

“ Your papa’s pretty drunk, Johnny, ” ejaculated an- 
other, unfeelingly. 

“ Turn the hose on him, ” cried a would-be joker. 

Percy’s heart burned with indignation at these coarse 
and brutal remarks ; perhaps for the first time in his life 
he clinched his fist with vexation. 

But the poor little boy himself seemed to be entirely un- 
conscious of these suggestions. He was alone in the world 
with his father ; all else was forgotten. 

“ O papa, papa! ” he exclaimed in a piteous voice, “do 
speak to me 1 Are you sick, papa ? Come home. It is too 
cold to lie here. ” 

That these boys could laugh in the face of so bitter an 
experience to an innocent child may seem incredible. But 
such was the fact. 

“ Talk louder, ” counselled one of those unpainted sav- 
ages ; “perhaps the old man’s deaf. ” 

“ Pull his hair, why don’t you, ” added a burly fellow of 
coarse features, who, by his swagger and general air, seemed 
to be a leader among the village youth. 

“ That’s sensible advice. Buck; give him a little more of 
it, ” said a smaller ruffian, addressing the last speaker. 

“ Here : I’ll wake him,” said the individual styled Buck; 
and advancing, he took the man by the shoulders and 
shook him rudely. 

The weeping child sprang to his feet, his dark eyes flash- 
ing. 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


145 


“ Lst him alone ! ” he cried passionately. “ He is my 
father. Yon mustn’t touch him.” He gave the fellow a 
stout push. 

“ I don’t care whose father he is, ” said the callous young 
ruffian. “ Come on old man, wake up ! ” 

The little fellow became furious with rage. He caught 
Buck with one hand, and with the other tried to beat him 
off. 

“ O dear, dear ! ” cried Percy, unable to be silent any 
longer, and breaking through the crowd ; “ This is too sad 
— you ought to be ashamed of yourself, sir, ” he said, his 
blue eyes flashing with indignation, as he addressed the 
rude fellow. “ If you don’t respect the man, you might, at 
least spare the feelings of the boy.” 

Buck, heedless of the blows rained upon him by the 
angry child, released his hold and started back in surprise. 
Even the little boy desisted from the attack, and turned to 
look in silence upon his defender. The crowd for a mo- 
ment became breathless with astonishment. That a slight, 
fair-faced child, almost girlish in form and feature should 
make bold to reprimand Buck, the terror of every village 
lad, was too much for their slender and poorly developed 
imaginations. But astonishment soon gave way to indig- 
nation, derision and contempt. 

“ Oh my ! what a dude ! ” — “ Go home to your mamma.” 
— “ He’s a college dandy. ” — “ Who let you loose ? ” these 
and a number of rude jests and exclamations were bandied 
from mouth to mouth ; while gentle Percy, his bosom 
heaving with pitying emotion, stood, in the strength of his 
indignation, fearless and unabashed, boldly facing the 
burly leader. 


146 


VEUCY WYNN, OH 


Buck, his face purple with rage, raised his hand as a sig- 
nal for .quiet. 

“ You little fool, ” he growled, “ what do you mean by 
speaking to me that way ? ” 

Percy placed himself between Buck and the man. 

“I can’t bear it: I really can’t, ” he protested. “It 
should move a heart of stone to see a poor boy in this sad 
condition. And you boys cOme around him, and laugh 
and make fun. O, it is cowardly ! ” 

“ Cowardly ! ” echoed Buck. 

“ It is ; it is. ” 

The bully struck Percy a heavy blow with his open palm. 
Percy fell, but arose quickly, his mouth bleeding. 

“ You may strike and strike, ” he said, in a low, firm 
tone. “ But I say it is cowardly. It is ! it is ! ” 

All had now forgotten the drunken man. Even the 
child standing beside his father, turned from his own great 
trouble, and stood gazing upon Percy in astonishment — 
and love. Of all the many eyes fixed upon our hero, his 
were the only ones which expressed the least sympathy. 

A boy of about Percy’s height, though somewhat stouter, 
now stepped from the crowd. 

“ You said we were cowards, ” he said. “ I’m your size : 
Do you want to fight ? ” 

“No indeedy! I don’t believe in fighting. O, but 
please do leave this poor man alone. You know it is cow- 
ardly to insult a helpless man in the presence of his son. ” 

There was a moment of indecision. 

“ Let’s make him run the gauntlet, ” shouted one. 

There followed a general chorus of assent ; and Buck im- 
mediately seized Percy, who, ignorant of the nature of run- 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


147 


ning the gauntlet, made little or no struggle. But the lit- 
tle boy could not bear to see his champion thus treated. 
He rushed forward and threw his arms about Percy. 

“ Help, help ! ” he shouted at the top of his voice. 

“ Shut up, you little sneak, ” growled Buck, vainly try- 
ing to disengage the child from his hold on Percy’s body. 
“ Here, some of you fellows, pull this chap off. ” 

The child was quickly, rudely torn away, and Percy was 
left in the cruel grasp of his captor. In less time than it 
takes to tell it, the boys closed together in a double line, 
the face of one turned to the face of a partner, and with 
just a little space between. Through these two lines 
Percy was to make his way, receiving as he passed, cuffs, 
kicks, and such indignities as each of these cruel boys had 
the power and opportunity of inflicting. 

“ Now,” said Buck, bringing him to the opening at one 
end of the ranks, “ run right through as fast as you can. ” 
Percy had no knowledge whatever of “running the 
gauntlet. ” Poor boy ! the vile tricks of the ruder class of 
youth were as yet unknown to him. So he stood irreso- 
lute. But a rude push from the leader, sent him stumbl- 
ing in between the boys. He was at once greeted with 
kicks and blows from those who were nearest ; and the deli- 
cate child almost immediately fell flat to the earth. No 
sooner had he fallen, however, than one of the roughs 
raised him and pushed him on. A few steps farther, and 
he fell again, dazed and almost stunned. He was again 
raised to his feet, and the disgraceful violence renewed. 

Snddenly a loud shout arose, and as Percy fell to the 
ground for the third time, two of his perseecutors meas- 
ured their lengths beside him. Donnel and Keenan had 
come to the rescue. 


CHAPTEK XVL 

*/' 

m WHKJH SOME OF OUR FRIENDS FIND IT NECESSARY TO 
FIGHT — ALSO TO RUN. 

So engrossed were these wretches in their cruel sport, 
that our two friends, Donnel the largest and best developed 
hoy of the small yard, and Keenan the quickest, hardiest, 
and most wiry, were upon them and among them before 
they had the least idea that an enemy was approaching. 
Percy’s two friends (who had heard the little lad’s shout 
for help) came upon the scene on a dead run ; and such 
added impetus did they bring to bear on the young mis- 
creants, that, as they dashed into the crowd, they sent five 
or six sprawling to the ground. Nor did they give the 
astonished town boys time or opportunity to recover them- 
selves. Both, though famous among their fellow students 
as peace-lovers and peace-makers, were, for all that, excel- 
lent boxers. So without stopping to make any inquiries, 
or to count the number of their slain, they followed up 
their first onslaught by raining blows right and left upon 
Percy’s tormentors. 

In an instant there came a panic upon the crowd. 

It was highly increased, when some one shouted : — 

“Look out, fellows! there’s a big crowd of (college boys 
coming.” 

This was too much for the general bravery. There was 
a lively scattering in all directions. But the victory was 
by no means complete. Buck, the pride and glory of a 
hundred village encounters, had a reputation at stake ; and 
giving no ear to this warning, he addressed himself to 


MAKING A BOY OK HIM. 


149 


John Donnel, who had already introduced himself as it 
were, to Mr. Buck by giving that hero of a hundred village 
encounters a decidedly unpleasant rap over the eyes. 

“Time there, will you!” cried Buck. “Just give me 
time to get off my coat, and then Fll teach you a thing or 
two.” 

“ I’ll give you time to take oft your whole ward-robe,” 
bawled John Donnel, the most peacable and good-natured 
student in St. Maure’s college. 

While this interchange of civilities was going on, and 
the rough was whipping off his coat, George Keenan was 
busily attending to a short thick set, sandy-faced boy, who 
second only to Buck in local fame, had held his ground 
along with his chieftain. 

But Keenan’s stunted form and slight build sadly de- 
ceived his opponent. That wiry undergrown lad, with all 
the quickness and lightness of a cat, possessed in addition 
the strength of iron muscles. The second hero of the 
village started in with the openly expressed intention of 
“ annihilating ” Keenan. But so quick and fast did the 
blows come from George’s fist that very soon he was fain 
to stand almost entirely upon the defensive. And he 
found presently that he was ill able to do even this. With 
every third or fourth blow, George broke through his 
guard. Presently the second bully of the village, who 
“ looked the whole world in the face; for he feared not 
any boy,” (except Buck of course,) began to move slowly 
backward, endeavoring by this retrogression to keep the 
blows from Kis face. Keenan was by nature of a phleg- 
matic disposition, but his appearance and conduct on this 
occasion would hardly lead a spectator to suspect the 


150 


PERCY VV'YNN, OR 


slightest existence of any such negative quality in him. 
His cheeks were flushed, his eyes were ablaze ; and, as his 
opponent began to step back, he rushed upon him with 
ever increasing heat and energy. Blow upon blow break- 
ing through the fellow’s guard, sent him reeling from side 
to side, Harder and harder Keenan pushed him. The 
bully was losing heart. His lips had become puffy; his 
eyes were swelling fast ; and soon he was unable to keep 
up even the pretence of a guard. Every blow now told on 
him, and he was obliged to yield ground more rapidly. 
He was soon close upon a tree, which, not having eyes at 
the back of his head, he could not, of course, perceive, and 
just as he had backed within two feet of it, George suc- 
ceeded in dealing him a tremendous blow between the 
eyes — a blow which sent the back of the village hero’s 
head with a sounding thwack against the tree. This was 
too much for the village hero. With a roar of pain, he 
turned tail and fled towards his dismayed companions, who 
had again gathered together, but at a safe and very re- 
spectable distance. 

All this took place in not more than two minutes time ; 
and George cooly adjusting his cuffs and smoothing down 
his hair, turned back to rejoin his friends. The scene had 
changed somewhat. The drunken man was now in a 
sitting posture, gazing about with a mixed expression of 
stupidity and surprise. His child, standing by his side, 
was watching the actions of John Donnel and Buck, who 
at a little distance from Percy were sparring warily, Percy, 
his clothes torn and soiled, had arisen, and was wiping the 
blood from his mouth. George hastened forward to watch 
the issue of the contest. 


MAKING A KOV OK HIM. 


151 


‘‘ Hadn’t you better hold on,” said John to his opponent. 
“ You’re side have all gone. I don’t care about fighting.” 

The answer to this was a blow on the face, which the 
bully, seeing John off his guard, contrived to get in. 

John had relieved his conscience. It was now a question 
of defence. 

“ Keep steady, John,” counselled Keenan. “ Have a 
lookout for some mean trick. I wouldn’t trust that fel- 
low.” 

John was steady enough. No one since his first ap- 
pearance at college, had ever known him to be conceimed in 
a fight ; but it was not from fear, for he was indeed a most 
scientific boxer. When he and Keenan put on the gloves 
in the college play-room for a friendly bout, they were al- 
ways surrounded by an admiring crowd, who, as a rule, 
were well repaid for their attention. 

^ But on this occasion, his opponent was not to be de- 
spised. Stouter and larger and older than John, he was 
also of superior strength. It was a question of very great 
skill and inferior strength, against great skill and great 
power. As for Buck, he had no doubts concerning the 
result. 

For some time the sparring was wary on both sides. 
Several times Buck assumed the offensive ; but he suc- 
ceeded poorly in breaking John’s guard. One of his at- 
tempts, indeed, resulted to his disadvantage. Before he 
could recover himself after a vigorous lunge, John caught 
him sharply behind the ear. Buck’s confidence weakened, 
but his rage grew proportionately stronger, and expressed 
itself in a most villainous expression of countenance. 

“ Lookout for the finger trick, John,” said George, in a 


152 


PERCY WYKN, OR 


voice so low as to be heard by Donnel alone. “ If I can 
judge by the way that fellow’s acting, he’s going to try it 
on you. Shut your mouth tight.” 

Did John understand this hint of George’s? It would 
appear that he did not, for he kept his mouth still slightly 
open, and even appeared to open it wider. And George 
was correct in his suspicions. Buck, seeing his opportunity, 
suddenly caught the left hand of John with his own left 
hand, and with the right tried to find his mouth. But 
John had heard and understood Keenan’s hint. His 
mouth was at once closed tight, and before the vile trickster 
could recover his position, he planted two very telling 
blows on his face, one of them taking an eye. 

The village hero of a hundred fights was somewhat dis- 
heartened. For the first time in years, he had met an 
opponent superior in skill to himself. He was now, more- 
over, at a disadvantage. His vision was no longer clear, 
and it was in vain he endeavored to keep track of John’s 
rapid and aggressive movements. But he had one chance 
yet of coming out with honor. He believed, and with 
truth (for he was the stronger and the heavier set) that if 
'he could close with his adversary, the battle might yet be 
his. He drew back, therefore, little by little, intending at 
some favorable moment to rush in upon John. But 
Keenan, who kept his wits perfectly clear, perceived his 
intention. 

“ Keep your eyes open, John,” he whispered. “ He’s 
going to close in on you.” 

A moment later. Buck suddenly drawing back a few 
feet made a savage, tiger-like spring at Donnel. But the 
most peace-loving student of St. Maure’s had been awaiting 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


153 


and expecting this movement. He jumped quickly to one 
side, and as Buck passed by him, he dealt him a full, 
vigorous blow upon the ear, which sent the bully forward 
Ht such an increased rate of speed that he lost his balance, 
a; id fell heavily to the earth. 

A howl of rage and dismay arose from the fallen hero’s 
sympathizers, who, however, still maintained their respect- 
ful distance. The strain on their already strained imagina- 
tions at seeing the village leader lying at the feet of a 
smaller boy — and a college boy at that — was overpower- 
ing. And then their idol seemed in no hurry to vindicate 
himself. He lay in a half recumbent position upon the 
ground, and if one could judge by his actions, had his 
doubts about the propriety or advisability of arising. 

But the crowd had now recovered in some measure from 
their first panic. After all it was not a party of college 
boys, as they had been led to suppose, but only two stu- 
dents who had taken the field. One spirited youth, under 
a growing sense of security, stooped and picked up a stone. 
His example was at once followed by several. 

“ John, — Percy ! ” said Keenan, who was as cool as ever. 
“ We’ve got to run for it, I think those fellows are going to 
stone us. ” 

“ Let them alone — the cowards ! ” said John. “ Two 
can play at that game. I wouldn’t run from Ihem if they 
were a thousand. ” 

“ But think of Percy,” pleaded George. “ He’s too deli- 
cate for this kind of amusement. It may be healthy 
enough for you and me. But don’t be selfish ; we must 
consider him. ” 

John’s common sense asserted itself. 


154 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


“ You’re right: We must save him. Come on, Percy. ” 
Percy, during the progress of the fight, had been praying 
for his friends with all the earnestness and confidence of 
his pure and loving spirit. 

“Don’t mind me, ” he said. “Save yourselves, John 
and George ; Pll stay. ” 

“ You must be crazy, ” said John. 

“No; I’m not. O, please go. You’ll get hurt. 

“ O ! ” said Keenan. “ He’s hurt his leg again. Did 
you ever hear of such legs ? ” 

George had a keen sense of observation. Percy’s ankle 
had been hurt in a fall, but he had made every effort to 
conceal his trouble from his two allies. 

Even as Keenan made this announcement, a stone whis- 
tled by Donnel’s head. 

Donnel made a rush to catch up Percy ; but Keenan was 
before him. 

“ No you don’t, John, ” he said, as he swung Percy into 
his arms, and set off at a run, “ You’re pretty well blown 
already ; and I’m quite fresh. ” 

Scarcely had they begun their flight towards the college, 
when a yell of rage flew up from the crowd — who had thus 
far kept their distance— followed by a shower of stones. It 
was really refreshing to see how lightly George sped along 
the road with his burden. His height and figure were be- 
yond doubt very deceptive. Compared with lads of his 
own size, it might be said of him almost literally that “ his 
strength was as the strength of ten. ” 

“ O, George, ” said Percy, “ you’ll be hurt on my ac- 
count. Please let me down. I’m not afraid — and I think 


I can run a little. ” 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 155 

“ Keep quiet, you young John L., ” George made an- 
swer. “This is just fun for me. Why, I can run near a 
mile with twenty pounds of dumb-bell, and you’re not 
maen worse; and besides I haven’t to run half so far. ” 

In truth, one beholding George’s face and expression 
might have judged that he was indulging in a mad romp. 

The crowd behind were now in full chase, and, of course, 
were gaining on our runners. 

“ 1 say, ” said John, who was taking it quite easy, so as 
not to outstrip George, “ they’re getting too close ; and 
I’ve got the most brilliant kind of an idea; and we ought 
both of us to be ashamed, it didn’t occur to us before. 
Let me hold part of Percy. Suppose I take his legs, for 
instance. ” . ■ 

The suggestion was good and timely. To use George’s 
phrase, they “ divided Percy up, ” and then set forward at 
much increased speed. 

This change was greeted by another howl of rage from 
the pursuers, and another shower of stones, one of which 
struck George below the knee. 

“ Good shot! ” exclaimed George. “ My legs are the 
toughest part of me. Cheer up, Percy, we’re getting close 
to the college ; we’ll be at the bridge crossing College 
creek in two minutes. Brace up, my boy ; you’ll live to 
run away again. ” 

“ I’m not at all afraid, ” said Percy with his beautiful 
smile, and fixing eyes full of confidence and gratitude upon 
his brave deliverers. “ I know that I’m in good company.” 

“ George, ” cried Donnel suddenly, “ aren’t there two of 
our fellows walking along by Bertrand’s hotel just beyond 
the bridge? ” 


156 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


The crowd behind had so gained that matters threatened 
to come to a crisis: Another shower of stones might 
prove to be very dangerous. 

George’s keen eyes strained themselves in the direction, 
to which John had called his attention. As he looked, his 
face changed from doubt to delight. 

“ Hurrah ! ” he said, “ it’s Ryan and McNetf. ” 

There was magic in the word Ryan. Who, then, was 
Ryan ? He was the stoutest and bravest young man in the 
large yard, with the additional glory of being the patriarch 
student of St. Maures. Naturally hot-tempered, and, in 
consequence, very troublesome to his prefects during his 
first and second years at college, he had in time succeeded 
so far in curbing his quarrelsome disposition, as to use his 
physical powers only in self-defence, or in helping the 
weak. 

“Ryan ! Ryan! shouted John and George together. 

“ O, pshaw ! he doesn’t hear us. ” 

Suddenly a loud shrill, piercing noise rent the air. Percy 
most luckily, had been cherishing Mr. Middleton’s whistle 
as a sort of relic and keep-sake. 

Ryan and McNefF turned about at once, and immedi- 
ately came down the road at full speed. 

It might be mentioned here that the new champion, 
Ryan, was better known in the village than any living per- 
son not actually residing therein ; and, especially in his 
earlier days, and frequently taught the village boys many 
lessons not to be learned from books. 

His appearance was enough. Stones dropped from hands 
just raised to throw them ; and every mother’s son of the 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


157 


pursuers wheeled about, and made with all earnestness for 
home. 

“ Hurrah, ” shouted Keenan, as he and John reached 
the bridge, and rested themselves against its railings, “ the 
victory’s ours. Cock-a-doodle-doo ! ” And he gave a novel 
and unique imitation of a hoarse rooster with an abnormal 
and remarkably uncommon crow. 

“ Never say die ! ” exclaimed Percy, gettine: upon his 
feet. 

“ And, ” added Donnel, “ we’ll live to fight another day, 
because Ave had sense enough to run aAvay. ” 


o- 



CHAPTER XVII. 


BEGIN^NING OF THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS PP:RCY IS 

CALLED rO THE PARLOR. 

“ Well, ” said Ryan, as he gained the bridge much in ad- 
vance of McNeff, “ I thought you belonged to the peace 
party. But you look as though you had been knocking 
out the small fry of the village by contract. What’s hap- 
pened ? ” 

‘‘ It seems, ” Donnel made answer, “ that Percy left the 
village several minutes before us, and took it into his head 
to break up a meeting of some twenty or thirty roughs. ” 

“ I only told them to go away, ” said Percy. “ They 
were making fun of a little boy whose father was lying on 
the ground — and would you believe it? — I think the man 
was actually drunk ; so drunk that he couldn’t walk. I 
never saw any such thing before outside of a book. — But 
the whole thing was so cruel. I had to speak out ; I 
couldn’t help myself. ” 

“ Yes ; and they’d have spoilt his chances of enjoying 
the Christmas holidays, -if we hadn’t come up. You see, 
Ryan, they were making him run the gauntlet. ” 

“ O, the brutes ! ” exclaimed Ryan in great indignation. 

“ Percy, you’re the knight ‘sans peur.’ But what’s the 
matter with your hand ? ” 

“ I think a stone must have struck it, ” said Percy, hold- 
ing it up. “ O dear ! it’s bleeding too. ” 

“ It’s about time for you to notice it. ” And Ryan, tak- 
ing a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapped it about 
Percy’s bleeding fingers. “ And your mouth is swollen, 
too, ” he added, “ and there are marks of blood about it — 
and then you’ve a stiff* ankle. Good gracious! you look 


INIAKINC^ A BOY OF HIM. 


159 


Uglier than myself, which is saying a great deal. Here, 
boys, bring him up to the college, and induce the infirmar- 
ian to put him into plasters, or he’ll come to pieces. If 
he’s attended to now, he’ll be all right for Christmas. 
Donnel, your face is cut a little. ” 

“ O, I enjoy having my face cut above all things. I was 
just on the point of asking some one to cut it for me, when 
a big village tough of the name of Buck, seeing my desire, 
kindly obliged me. Yes. ” he added merrily, “ I now want 
only one thing to complete my happiness — and that’s a 
black eye. ” 

“ But Mr. Ryan, ” put in Percy with all earnestnessH 
I’m so anxious about that little boy and his father. 
Those mean boys may return on them. ” 

“ I’ll bet they don’t stay long, then, ” said Ryan decid- 
edly. “ You just go home Percy, and swallow all the med- 
icine the brother will give you. McNeff and myself shall 
see the man home safely, if we have to carry him. ” 

With this promise, Percy was thoroughly satisfied ; and 
Ryan having learnt the whereabouts of the drunken man, 
set off at a pace which, giving it the most dignified expres- 
sion allowable, might be called very fast walking, fully de- 
termined to carry out his promise, even should he bring 
the whole village about his ears. 

It may be added, that he had no difficulty in putting his 
word -into effect. 

The following day was December the twenty-third. In 
the afternoon the closing exercises of the year were held in 
the college study-hall. After an overture from the college 
orchestra, the “ testimonials of excellent deportment ” or 
“ Conduct Cards, ” were distributed. The boys meriting 


160 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


this honor, were read out in alphabetical order. When 
John Donnel walked up to the platform to receive his card 
from the hands of the president, his face very much out of 
shape — “ Lop-sided, isn’t it ” whispered Tom to Harry 
Quip — there was so vigorous a clapping of hands, that 
Donnel blushed. Keenan’s appearance elicited a no less 
applause. But when Percy Wynn, the last on the list, ad- 
vanced to the platform, his face dotted with sticking plas- 
ter, his hand bandaged, and with a perceptible limp, there 
arose such a cheer as had never before startled the echoes 
of the hall. Cheering in any room of the college was, of 
course, against all rule. But the President was not over- 
mathematical : He could make allowances. Indeed, he 
afterwards remarked, it was said, that he felt tempted to 
join in himself. As for the prefects, the guardians of 
order, not one of them made so much as a gesture of dis- 
approval. Nay, more ; several of the boys afterwards as- 
serted that Mr. Middleton had himself taken an active 
part in the applause ; but this, I take it, was an exaggera- 
tion. The boys readily accepted it as a fact, however, and 
liked their prefect the more for it. 

That Percy was fully up in his studies was evidenced 
by his class-standing. In English, he was first, Richards 
second ; in Arithmetic Tom first, Percy second ; Grammar, 
Quip, Playfair and Wynn equal ; Greek, Wynn and Play- 
fair equal. In Latin, Wynn first, Playfair second. 

Tom shook his fist at Percy. 

“ You plastered-up pugilist,” he whispered ; “ next time 
I teach you any Latin, it will be a very cold day, and 
you’ll have to whistle. ” 

“ You’ll have to teach me how to whistle first, Tom. ” 


MAKtXG A BOY OF HIM. 


161 


“ Xot if I know myself, ’’ replied the humbled ex-pro- 
fcssor. “ I don’t care about seeing you beat me at that 

Hut for all this, Toin was proud at the success of his 
pupil. As a slight expression of his overcharged feelings, 
he' Was known to have turned several handsprings in pri- 
vate./ And he went about during the day, speaking of 
Percv as a ‘^crippled pupil of his, who had had the impu- 
dence to beat his professor. ” Tt was the first time in a 
year' that Tom had missed the monthly Latin medal ; but 
he was far more gratified at Percy’s earning it than he had 
ever lieen at liis Own success. His was too large at heart to 
be distil tiled by petty jealousy. > 

The ])tbmiums all distributed to the leaders of the var- 
ious clashes,' the ebl lege choir came forward with a pretty 
Christmas hymn, consisting of a solo and chorus. ' Percy 
had tlie'b^llo. ■ The'exhildlation of the time and place, the 
Christmas emotions throbbing in the hearts of his audi- 
ence, the'* warm feelings which the kindly demonstrations 
of the'students bad awakened in his bosom — all combined 
to raise d*ercy to a state of exaltation. 

All the glory and peace of that Christmas night of long 
ago seemed to find echo in his silvery voice. The chorus, 
too, animated by the fine spirit Percy had evoked, sang 
with a’ tenderness and feeling far above their ordinary ef- 
forts. 

The song concluded, there was scarcely any applause. 
The religious element in its sweetest and most charming 
form had been touched — and the enthusiasm of it was ex- 
pressed in reverential silence. 

The President then made a few* remarks, ending wdth 


162 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


cordial wishes for a merry Christmas to all ; and presently 
the boys, freed from their books, were hard at it, chasing 
the wayward football. 

Percy in his maimed condition, was unable to join them 
in this sport. 8o he and Tom repaired to the play hall. 
Just as they were finishing a game of checkers, a boy came 
running in, with 

“ O, I say, Percy ; you’re wanted in the parlor. ” 

“ Goodness : perhaps it’s my mamma ! O, it’s too bad. ” 

“ Well, you’re a nice, affectionate son. The idea of be- 
ginning to growl at the prospect of seeing j^our mother, ” 
said Tom with iiis most serious expression. 

“ You know what I mean, Tom. She’ll be shocked at 
seeing me in sticking plasters. ” 

“O, I wouldn’t bother, ” said Tom: “You look just 
immense behind a sticking plaster. If I were you, I’d 
wear one all the time for ornament. You might make it 
fashionable. It looks every bit as sensible as wearing a 
bang, anyhow.” 

“ Well, I don’t care about starting the fashion on 
mamma first. But perhaps it’s some-one else. In her last 
letter, she wrote that she wouldn’t be here before the first 
of January. Do you think it can be my mamma, Tom ? ” 

“ If I were you, I’d go and find out, ” said the malicious 
professor of Latin. “ You might tell her that I intend to 
put in a bill for teaching you, with interest at ten per 
cent. ” 

Percy made a few hasty changes in his toilet, and hur- 
ried over to the parlor. 

It was with trembling hand he turned the door-knob. 
He hesitated even then for a moment before throwing open 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


163 


the door. But his anxiety was at once dissipated. No * 
inarnina was there expecting to see her darling child the 
picture of health, freshness and vigor. Seated beside the 
president of the college was a strange gentleman, his hand 
clasped in affectionate familiarity by a little boy, who re- 
leased his clasp as Percy entered, and ran eagerly forward 
to meet him. Percy had no difficulty in recognizing the 
child as his little friend of the previous day’s adventure. 
But he could hardly bring himself to believe that the 
stately, dignified gentleman before him was the drunkard 
of the village common. 



(^HAPTKH XVIIl, 


INTRODUCES AN EXTRAORDINARY NEWCQMER TO 1‘ERCV 
AND THE READER. . = , 

* • . I • ' 

The gentleman rose somewhat awkwardly, dt must be 
admitted, as Percy entered, 

“ Percy,” said the President, “ this is Mr. Burdock.” 

Percy made his inimitable bow. 

“ Mr. Burdock,” he said his face suffused with blushes, 
“ I am happy to make your acquaintance.” 

The gentleman shook his hand warmly, and the ac- 
companying look of gratitude expressed . more than any 
number of fine phrases. 

There was a slight pause, a pause that promised to become 
child came bravely to the rescue. 

“ 0, I say, Percy, you and me don’t have to be — what do 
you call it *? — ■ 

“ Introduced,” suggested Percy. 

“ That’s the word, I couldn’t get it, it’s so long: my 
name’s Frank, and I like you like anything.” 

This novel avowal set the whole party laughing, and 
relieved the awkwardness which, naturally enough, Mr. 
Burdock felt in the presence of his beardless boy-defender. 

Frank, during the laugh, was shaking Percy’s hand, and 
derived such supreme enjoyment from this very simple 
performance that he kept it up for over a minute. 

“ Percy,” said Mr. Burdock at length, “ I must confess 
that I feel somewhat embarrassed just now. But I thank 
you from my heart for the lesson you have unconsciously 


iVrAKiNG A BOY OF 


] 65 

taught nle. People say that Iain a scholar, that I give 
uiuch of uiy time to books: but I don’t mind telling you 
in the- jn’esence of your President that 1 have learned from 
you many things more beautiful tlian my best writers have 
taught me. — To-morrow I leave St. Maure’s for Chicago.” 

“ I’m sorrw you’re going, sir,” said Percy, “ for J lioped 
too see more of , Frank.” 

Tl'pon this, Frank seized Percy’s hand again, and shook 
it \^armly. . - 

“I’m glad to hear that,” .said Mr. Burdock smiling. 
“ And so am I,” said the little fellow still shaking Percy’s 
hand, “ for I’m going to stay with you, Percy. Papa is 
going to let me be a boarder.” . . 

“ O, indeed ! I’m so glad.” . 

“ Xothing would do Frank after what happened yester- 
day,” put in Mr. Burdock, “ but to come to school at 8t. 
■Nfaure’s college. This was rather hard on me,” he added, 
turning to the President with a smile ; “ for Fve spent the 
last ten years in abusing religion, and Catholicity with 
Catholic training in particular. But I have changed all 
that, the last twenty-four hours. Percy and his two 
friends who came to his assistance have levelled all my 
objections. By the way where are those two boys, Percy ?” 

“ I think they are gone walking, sir.” 

“ Well, !■ hope to see them some day, and thank them. 
And now, Reverend Father, there’s one other point. I 
should have touched upon : — my boy has no religion.” 

“ O !” exclaimed Percy unable to conceal his dismay. 

“ But my ideas,” continued Mr. Burdock, “ are changed 
on that subject to. If Frank desires, he may now choose 
for himself.” 


166 PERCY WYNN, OR 

“ Hav'e you got religion, Percy?’’ asked Frank gravely. 

“ O, yes, indeed !” 

“ Well, then, papa, I want to get Percy’s religion.” 

“ No matter whether it’s right or wrong?” asked the 
father. 

This puzzled little Frank for a moment, but he bright- 
ened as he made answer — ■“ O, I’m sure it’s right. If it can 
make a boy be as nice and kind and brave as Percy, it 
can’t be very wrong. Don’t you think that’s a fact, papa?” 

“ Well — no matter: you may choose for yourself, Frank. 
But try to understand what you are chwsing and why.” 

“ You may be sure,” said the president gravely, “ that 
he will not become a Catholic unless he really desire it : 
not then, even, unless he fully believe those truths which 
we hold necessary.” 

“I trust you fully, Reverend Father. Now, Frank, as 
I wish to have some ttilk in private with the President, I 
shall leave you in Percy’s hands.” 

“ Come on, Frank,” said Percy. “ I’ll show you the 
yard and everything. — Good bye, Mr. Burdock.” 

“ Good bye, my boy. Again let me thank you : you 
have done me more service than you can realize. You are 
one of nature’s noblemen.” 

“O, dear me!” exclaimed Percy. “You’re quite wel- 
come, I’m sure, but it isn’t worth mentioning.” 

“ That’s what you say. — Now, Frank, my little boy 

good bye.” He raised Frank in his arms and kissed 

him fondly — “ and — eh — eh — God bless you.” 

It was with difficulty the strong man uttered these words, 
and his voice tre mbled as he spoke. 

“He’s my child— my only child,” he added turning 


MAKING A BOY OK HIM. 


167 


Hway and bowing his head. “ My only child, and his 
mother is dead.” 

Every word of this utterance told a tale of tears, and of 
years of abiding sorrow and love. 

“O, pcH)r Frank!” cried Percy, his eyes melting with 
pity. “ Come away, Frank— your papa will become only 
more sad, if you remain longer.” 

As the door shut them from the room, Frank broke into 
sobs. 

“ That’s right, Frank ; have a good cry,” said Percy 
sympathetically. “ I can easily imagine how sad it is to 
part from so kind a father.” 

“ O! he always was so good and so kind to me,” sobbed 
the child. “ He never spoke an unkind word to me. O, 
papa ! papa !” 

Percy was all sympathy and love. Scarcely fourteen 
himself, and but little more than a child among those of 
his own age at St. Maure’s, he from that time took upon 
himself the office of protector to Frank. 

“ I am sure your papa is good. I can see it,” he said. 
“ I like him ever so much myself. And I noticed too, how 
very sorry he was to leave you.” 

“ And — and — did you notice what he said ?” enquired 
Frank eagerly, as he checked his sobs. 

“ What was that ?” 

“ He said — ‘ God bless ymiJ ” 

Percy was puzzled. 

“ I never heard him use that name before,” continued 
Frank. 

“ What I you don’t say so !” Percy was more astonished 
than words or looks could express. The idea that the 


PKIK’Y wynx, or 


simple phrase, “ (rod bless you,” should be a novelty to 
anyone was to him something almost iueonceivable. Pie 
paused at the lower end of the hall — they had thus far 
been walking along slowly and — kindly brushed away the 
tears from Frank’s cheek. v-- 

Frank Burdock could hardly be ten years old. Pfe was 
small even for that age, and quite slightly made, While 
his features Avere regular, they were noFof that faultless 
order wherein every lineament is so striking that' liothing 
strikes. On the contrary, his forehead and d^^p chestnut 
eyes were wortliy of more than a passing glanced • ■rj(K)hiniJ: 
at these features, one could see that he united to the 
simplicity of the child the quiet, seriotis, thoughtful ex- 
|;)ression so rare in one of his years. Plis face indeed, was 
eminently intellectual. Now a boy of ten with an intel- 
lectual face is something unusual : 'P'rank was an unusiial 
boy. ■ 

Pfis training, it is worthy of remark, had been abnormal. 
Before he was well able to walk, he had lost his mother : 
and to educate this only child, this dear relic of an intense 
affection, the surviving parent had devotedly set hinVself. 
But Mr. Burdock, unhappily, had for years previous been 
a pronounced infidel. And so while, carefully instructing 
P>ank in such branches of secular learning as were fitted 
for a child not yet in his teens, he had entirely neglected 
the religious element. P" rank’s code of ’’morality was — 
“ Love your father, and love your friends.” To him the 
words “God,” “Religion,” “ Virtue were alihost mean- 
ingless. What such a course of instruction would ulti- 
mately have led to, it is unpleasant to speculate upon. 
But, happily for himself, Frank was as yet undeveloped; 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


169 


liis fns'iioim had not gainod tlieir strength. 

W.itle the sorrows of a child are indeed poignant, they 
h ive this redeeming feature, that they pass (piickly : and 
so when Percy conducted Frank to the small yard, some 
few Jiiinutes after the leave taking between father and sou, 
the little fellow had become quite tranquil. . 

“ Xow,” said Percy, “ I’m going to introduce you to 
some of my friends. They are all the nicest kind of boys. 
There’s Tom Playfair, standing In' the parallel bars. We 
must have a talk witii him. Tom, I think, is one of the best 
boys living. 

“ He isn’t any better than you, Percy — is he?” 

“ O, yes, indeed. He’s worth a hundred like me,” 
answered Percy sincerely. 

“ I don’t think so,” Frank made answer, and giving out 
each word with great deliberation, ‘‘and T won’t believe it 
till it’s proved. Papa says we’re not to believe things till 
they are proved.” 

Percy laughed, as he conducted Frank over to Tom. 

“ Hay, Tom ; here’s a new boy — ^Frank Burdock.” 

“ Happy Christmas, Frank,” said Tom shaking the new 
comer’s hand. “Seems to me, I’ve seen you before.” 

“ May be you did. I used to go to school up town.” 

“O, you did, did \'Oii ? I reckon I must have runup 
against you when I was up town buying shoes. I wear out 
a pair sometimes in two weeks. It takes Percy about six 
years. Well, I hope you’ll like St. Maure’s.” 

“ I’m sure I wilh Percy here and Donnel and Keenan, 
1 think that’s their names — are splendid boys.” 

' “ Oh !” said Tom, recognizing in Frank the little boy 

whom Percy had championed, “ 1 think you’ll like the 


170 


PEECY WYNN, OR 


boys liere better tliao the boys you used to go to scho<)l 
with.” 

At these words, Frank’s eyes hashed, whiJe his whole 
countenance darkened. 

“The boys in the village school ! I hate them!” He 
stamped his foot on the ground, and his delicate frame 
trembled with j)assion. 

“ Why, Frank,” said Percy, “you must be joking.” 

“ What !” exclaimed Frank. “ Don’t you hate them.” 

“ Indeed no.” 

It was Frank’s turn to be astonished. 

“ Not after the mean way tliey treated you f” 

“ We should never allow ourselves to hate people,” .said 
Peixjy in gentle accents. “ And besides those poor fellows 
may not have been taught better.” 

“ I don’t care,” answered Frank clinching his fists, and 
speaking with much excitement, “ they ought to know 
better anyhow : and if I had a gun, I’d — I’d shoot that big 
Ugly Buck. I would, sure.” 

“ O, you young blood-and-thunder,” exclaimed Tom 
laughing, “you’ll change your mind before you’re much 
older.” 

“ But I won’t. I wish Buck and every one of those 
roughs was dead — yes ; and buried too. And I wouldn’t 
want them to have any tombstones either, and nothing but 
an old wooden coffin. I hate ’em! I hate all people who 
treat me or my papa mean. And I love everybody who 
loves us.” Here, his face and his tone softened, and he 
glanced affectionately at Percy. 

“ But it’s wrong to bate,” Percy said by way of answer 
to this glance. 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


171 


“ Aticl do you know, old fellow,” said Tom with much 
gravity, “ that you’re an out and out Jew — and no 
Christian at all ! You want an eye for an eye.” 

‘‘ (), Tom,” broke in Percy, opening his eyes very wide, 
and speakitig with great earnestness and solemnity, lest 
Tom should think he was joking, “ he doesn’t know a thing 
al>out religion.” 

Tom whistled, braced himself by spreading out his feet 
very wide, and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. 

“That’s so,” assented Frank; “but I’m going to get a 
religion like Percy’s. Have you got the same kind as 
Percy’s, Tom.” 

“ Well,” rejoined Torn coolly, “ I believe it’s pretty 
much of the same kind of make. But I say, Frank, do 
you know what Christmas means?” 

“ O, yes ; it’s a great day for presents, and a big dinner 
w'ith turkey and cranberry sauce, and plum-pudding.” 

“ O, you young heathen !” 

Frank’s eyes expressed perplexity. 

“ What’s that Tom ?” he asked. 

Percy laughed, as he said 

“ Well, Frank, would you like to know what Christmas 
really is?” 

“ I want to know everything you know,” Frank made 
answer with much gravity. 

“Hood boy, Frank,” said Tom clapping him on the 
back. “ You’re going in for a liberal education, and no 
mistake. But suppose, Percy, we go over to the chapel 
and show him the crib first : and while we’re going there, 
you can tell him all about Christmas.” 

The two made for the chapel, and, on the way thither. 


172 


PEKCY WYNN, OR 


Frank listened with no little interest and surprise to the 
account of the Christ child’s naturally. In the chapel, h.e 
gazed long and intently upon the pretty Christinas crib 
which-had just been set up, and his features evinced that 
he was both delighted and impressed. . . , . 

■ “ Look,” whisf^ered Percy, pointing to the waxen figure 
of the Divine Babe. “Do you know what .became, of 
Hiin?” 

“What, Percy?” • . 

“In the end, he gave himself up to suffer a cruel deuth 
for" the sake of his enemies.” 

Frank gazed and pondered. 

“ Say, boys,” he said presently, catching the hajids of 
Percy and Tom, “ if I sav anything very queer now and 
then, you won’t mind me, will you? I don’t want to say 
anything against your religion.” 

“ You’re changing already, old fellow,” said Toni as they 
stepped out of the chapel. “ You’re neither a Jew nor a 
Heathen! you’re yourself and nobody else. Hallo! here’s 
Mr. Middleton. You must make his acquaintance, old 
boy ; for he’s to be your prefect.” - 

But before Tom could go through the formalities of an 
introduction, Mr. Middleton assumed the initiative him- 
self. 

“ Why, isn’t this Frank Burdock ?” he exclaimed catch- ’ 
ing Frank’s hand in all cordiality. “ I’m glad to see you. 
You’re in my yard, you know ; and I hope you’ll be able 
to join my class. 

Frank gazed uj) into the kind face of the prefect. 

I hope so too,” he assented. “Mr. Middleton, why 
do you wear a gown ?” 


MAKING A BOV OF HIM. 


m 


“ I don’t like to dress like ordinary people. But you’ll 
understand these things better by and by. Percy attend to 
Frank during supper, he may sit next to you. Afterwards, 
bring him to me: I want to give him his place in the 
study-hall and dormitory.” 

And Mr. Middleton departed. 

He’s a nice man,’” was Frank’s comment, “even if he 
does like to dress funny. I like his face too. He doesn’t 
seem to be very rich, does he?” 

“()ho! you’re a Jew sure, enough,” said Tom. “But 
- what inakes you think him poor?” 
i “That old gown he had on. It ought to be black I 
suppose, but it w.as green in spots — and then the thing, he 
ties it round his waist with, looks like— well it looks some- 
thing like going to seed.” 

“You’re right, PTank,” said Tom. “He is poor; he 
hasn’t a cent in the world.” 

“ He must spend his money as fast as he earns it, then.” 

“ He doesn’t earn any money : he workSs for nothing.” 

A look of displeasure expressed itself upon the features 
of F rank. 

“ You’re teasmg me,” he said^ and turned away towards 
Percy. , 

“ No he isn’t,” said Percy. “ It’s quite true ! Mr. 
Middleton doesn’t receive one cent of salary.” 

= “Is he crazy?” 

“ O dear, no. He’s W'orking for the love of Clod.” 

The expression on P'rank’s countenance at this announce- 
ment was one of infinite perplexity. He shut his eyes and 
pondered deeply. But his imagination seemed to be 
inadequate to the strong call made uj)on it. 


174 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


“ Let’s take a run out in the fresh air,” he suggested. 

“ Certainly,” assented the two.” , . 

They had scarcely giiined their play ground, when Frank, 
who had been l(K)king about eagerly, suddenly brightened, 
and clapped his hands. 

Look ! there they are !” And he ran forward to greet 
Donnel and Keenan. “O, how do you do?, I’m so glad 
to see you again. I go to school here too, my name’s 
Frank Burdock.” 

“ How are you, yourself ?” answered John, swinging the 
little fellow into the air. “ You see, J want to take a gCKKl 
look at you : that’s why I’m holding you up to the light. 
I’m John Donnel.” 

“ And I’m George Keenan,” said the other, catching 
Frank by the legs and bringing him to earth again. 

For some moments Frank looked at George and John, 
as though something very heavy wa.s weighing upon his 
youthful bosom. At length he spoke. 

“ Are you two in a higher class than Percy and Tom ?” 

“ We are,” answered both solemnly. 

“ Well, then,,! want to ’ask you a question.” 

“ Is it very hard ?” asked John. 

“ No : don’t you hate Buck ?” 

“ Certainly not,” an8were4 John. 

‘LSuppose he were drowning in the river.” continued 
Frank with an air of anxiety, “ would you jump in to save 
him ?” 

“ Well, if I thought I had a fair chance to save his life, 
I certainly would.” 

“ You would ?” 

“ Yes : what would you do ?” 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


175 


Frank’s eve flashed. 


I’d throw a brickbat at him I” 



CHAPTER XrX. 


IN WHICH FRANK ASKS A (4RKAT MANY PEOPLE A 
GREAT MANY QrESTIONS; TEAITIES PERCY HOW TO 
“ STRIKE OUT; ” AND MAKES A (TIRISTMAS SPEECH BE- 
FORE BREAKFAST. 

The morning of Ciiristmas eve— clear and cold. The 
sun, now risen with undimmed lustre, was making a mil- 
lion diamonds sparkle from frosted tree, from stunted grass 
and from frozen earth. The boys, as they came running 
from the refectory to their yard, evinced unwonted animal 
spirits. Tlie river, they were sure, was tit for skating. 

While Percy was stCK)ping over his box in the wash- 
room, looking up his skates, Frank entered and, sobbing as 
if his heart would break, flew to his side. 

“ Why, Frank! Perc}' exclaimed. “ What’s the mat- 
ter?” 

“ I wish I was dead ! ” sobbed PTank. 

This strong expression is common enough in the mouths 
of passionate children, and also, I am told, of young ladies 
with an uncertain disposition. But Percy had never be- 
fore heard so shocking a wish. He was appalled. 

“ P’rank — PTank ! don’t speak in that w’ay, You surely 
can’t mean such a wicked thing. ” 

“Yes, I can mean it; and I do mean it ; and I am 
wicked. That’s just what’s the matter, ” cried Frank, 
still sobbing. 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


177 


“ Surely, no one has been teasing you ! ” 

“ No, they’re all nice enough. But they laugh at me. ” 
“ I’m sure, ” said Percy, still stroking the little head, — 
“ I’m sure they don’t mean any harm. Indeed the boys 

■I'"- 

who know you, like you very much — all of them. ” 

“ It doesn’t matter — I’m a Jew. I’m sure I am. This' 

I 

morning when we were in that chapel before breakfast, I 

r ■■ ■ 

talked to the fellow next to me; and he wouldn’t answer — 
only grinned. And then when I got upon my seat and 
looked around, I saw a lot of the boys laughing at me. O, 
I’m sure I’m a Jew ! ” 

Despite his sympathy Percy was amused. 

“ What’s your idea of a Jew, Frankie ? ” 

“ I don’t know. But I’ll bet it’s something bad and ugly 
and foolish. ” 

# 

“ O, no ; you’re not a Jew. Jews have hooked noses; and 
yours ” — here Percy playfully caught Frank by the organ 
in question — “ is small and straight. You’re not one bit 
like a Jew. ” 

“ Well, I’m a Heathen anyhow,” sobbed Frank with less- 
ening grief. 

“ No indeed, you’re not. You’re my friend.” 

Frank did not seem, thus far, to have considered the 
matter in this light. He ceased sobbing, but his face still 
gave evidence that he had his doubts. 

“ Tom Playfair said I was a Jew. ” 

“ You don’t understand Tom. He was only joking, you 
know. Tom likes you immensely. ” 

‘‘ Does he ?i» Frank was softening into smiles. 

“Yes, indeed! But look, Frank; aren’t you coming 
skating?” 


178 


PERCY WYJfK, OR 


“No sir, ” answered Frank, with a relapse into glooin, 
“ I want to stay right here and get religion. 

Poor Frank had already become painfully a ware of 
his ignorance in regard to sacred matters; and, being an 
earnest, ambitious child, it was the consciousness of his in'- 
feriority in this respect, to his college companions, which 
had brought on this burst of feeling, and fortified him to 
forego the pleasure of a morning on the ice. 

“CanH you skate?” asked Percy, hardly able to sup- 
press a smile at Frank’s constant expression— “ get religion.” 

“ O yes ; I know how to skate well enough. And that’s 
why I won’t go. You see, I want to learn something I 
don’t know. ” 

“ 0, my ! Can you skate ? ” 

“ Yes ; of course. ” 

For the first time in his life, I dare sa}-, Percy in- 
dulged'in a bit of finiese. 

“ I’m so glad to hear it, ” he went on ; because you can 
do me a great favor. ” 

“ Do you a favor,” echoed Frank, his gloom-contracted 
countenance bursting from apathy, into full-blown inter- 
est ; “O, I’m so glad ! what is it ? ” 

“ Teach me to skate. ” 

Frank’s face put on all the wonder it could assimilate. 

“What! what!! Don’t yow know how to skate?” 

“ I couldn’t make one stroke, Frank ; I never had an ice- 
skate on in my life. ” 

Frank unbent in a radiant smile; then broke into a 
laugh, which he kept up for some time. * 

“ Well if that isn’t funny ! And you’re ever so much 
bigger than I am. But I’m so glad I can teach you' any* 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 179 

tiling, Percy ; and I’m going to teach you to skate all by 
myself. ” 

Frank had now brightened up wondrously. His pes- 
simistic views on the value of life had vanished into thin 
air : He moved about with alacrity, produced his skates 
with a certain air of dignity, and breaking into another 
smile, added : — 

“ I take it all back : I don’t wish I was dead. I want to 
live and teach you how to skate. ” 

“Thank you, Frank. And can you play base-ball ? ” 

“ O, can’t I ! ” ejaculated Frank with increasing anima- 
tion. 

“ Splendid ! ” said wily Percy. “ I can hardly ever hold 
a ball myself ; and I’m very anxious to know how to do it, 
this corning spring. ” 

“ Whoop-la !” piped Frank. “ I’ll teach you myself. O, 
we’ll have dead loads of fun ” 

This added prospect raised Frank’s spirits into the up- 
roarious. He laughed and chatted, and danced about, till 
Percy declared that he was like a little sunbeam ; which 
remark flattered Frank immensely, and, if possible, made 
him still more lively. 

“I say, Percy Wynn, ” cried Tom, bursting breathlessly 
into the play-room, “ aren’t you coming skating? — Why! 
holloa, old man I ” 

The “ old man” referred to was Frank. 

“ Yes, Tom, ” Percy made answer, “ I was just about 
ready to start. ” 

“ Good ! I’ll give you your first lesson. Aren’t you 
coming too, old man ? ” 

“ Yes ; and I don’t want you to teach Percy, either. ” 


180 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


“ Depraved youth, ” said Tom gravely ; “ is it thus you 
wish your friends to be treated? Of course, I’ll teach 
Percy. And I’ll give you all the lessons you want too, for 
nothing. ” 

“ No you won’t, ” answered Frank, decidedly. “ I know 
how to skate, and I’m going to teach Percy all alone by 
myself. ” 

Frank was jealous. 

“ Well, old sinner, ” pursued Tom with a smile, “ won’t 
you let me help you ? ” 

Frank made pause, while he considered this question. 

“ Well, ” he at length made answer, “ you may help, now 
and then, if you do just what I tell you. ” 

“ Thank you, old man ; you’re a jewel. ” 

The three now set out, and hurrying forward, fell be- 
hind the foremost boys who were advancing at a smart 
pace towards the river. 

“ Tom, ” began Frank when the trio had swung them- 
selves into a steady pace, “ what’s a sinner? You called 
me a sinner just now. ” 

“ Yes, but I was joking, ” answered Tom, who was be- 
ginning to perceive that his little friend was apt to take re- 
marks very literally. “ A sinner is a person who does very 
bad things. Of course you’re not a sinner. ” . 

Frank pondered for a moment ; then went on. 

“ Is a boy who hates people ; and who wishes he was 
dead, a sinner ? ” 

“ I guess he is if he hates them very much, and really 
wishes he was dead. ” . 

“ Then I’m a sinner, ” calmly added the logical youth of 
ten summers, “ and you were right when you called me 


MAKING A KOY OF HIM. 


181 


one. But I’m going to get over it. I’m goins: to change. 
I’m going to get religion. ” 

“ You talk about getting religion, as if it were put up in 
packages, ” said Tom, smiling. 

“ Yes, ” assented Percy. “ But that’s the way some 
people not of our faith talk. I’ve often seen it in books. 
They don’t reform or become good ; they always get relig- 
ion. ” ■ 

As they pursued their \vay, Percy and Tom were kept 
very busy answering Frank’s questions. Prayer, Mass and 
a hundred other sacred matters were touched upon ; and 
Frank was thoroughly pleased with the information he re- 
ceived concerning these things. Truly after a life-long ab- 
stinance, his soul had become hungry : And when Percy> 
in sweet and gracious manner, told him the leading events 
in the life of our Divine Lord, the child’s intelligent face 
glowed with sympathetic interest. 

“ Are you sure that he loved little children very much?” 
asked Frank. 

“ Certain, ” Percy made answer. “ He spoke of them so 
often and so lovingly. Once, when his disciples wished to 
keep them away from Him, He gave them a scolding; and 
said that in Heaven all were like little children. ” 

“ Well, ” said Frank, with much seriousness, “I’m going 
to love Him back, since He loved me : And I’m going to 
write to my papa, and tell him the whole story ; and papa 
will love him too. ” 

They were now at the river’s bank. 

When it came to putting on -their skates, Frank was 
quite indignant at Tom’s undertaking to assist Percy. 

“ No you don’t ! ” he exclaimed, with no liftle warmth. 


182 . 


PERCY VV*YNJf, OR 


“ You just go and put (ni your own skates. FlI attend to 
Percy myself. ” 

Tom laughingly obeyed ; and Frank with a sense of im- 
portance which he made no attempt to conceal, took Percy 
under his own special and sole charge. When all was ready 
for the start, he took Percy’s hand. 

“ Here Tom — Tom Playfair, ” he then called out, “ you 
may take Percy’s left hand ; but mind you’re very careful 
not to go to fast. ” 

“Holloa!” cried John Donnel dashing at full tilt into 
the party, and neatly stopping himself by running squarely 
into Tom. “ I thought, Percy, I was under contract to 
teach you how to skate. ” 

“ Go away, John Donnel I ” commanded Frank. “ I 
won’t allow it. Clear off now. He’s in my charge. ” 

So delighted and so impressed was Frank with his as- 
sumed task, that he vvould hardly allow anyone to ap- 
proach Percy at all. For all that, however, he was a skill- 
ful skater, and with such earnestness did he coach Percy 
that our hero was soon initiated into the mystery of “ strik- 
ing out.” 

“ Hurrah ! ” cried Frank, when this important point had 
been gained, “ Ain’t I a good teacher ? ” 

“ Splen — did, ” answered Percy as fie struck out anew, 
and sat down very suddenly on the ice. 

“ Are you hurt?” cried Frank, with real concern. 

“ O dear no; but how shall I get up? ” 

“ Tom Playfair — Do you hear me ? ” ( Tom was trying 
his foot on the Dutch Roll hard by ) — “ Tom, come on 
here and help. ” 

“ First class, Percy, ” Tom remarked as he assisted Frank 


MAKING A BOV OP HIM. 183 

to bring the beginner to his feet. “ Every skater must 
learn to cut a star, and you’ve got that down fine already. ” 
, “ Where’s the star, Tom ?” Percy asked. 

“ It’s gone now ; but you cut it all the same. ” 

“See here, Tom Playfair,” put in Frank, who took life 
quite seriously, “ I don’t want you to make fun of Percy’s 
skating. ” 

“ O, I beg your pardon. Professor Burdock ; but honestly 
you are teaching him very well. ” 

Mollified by this compliment, the professor continued his 
lesson. Within an hour, Percy, who was blessed with 
strong ankles, found himself able to stand on his legs with- 
out help ; and before a second hour had elapsed, he was 
able to move about unassisted. And yet the awkward fig- 
ure which the naturally graceful boy presented on the ice, 
was ridiculous to see ; and I am afraid that Frank made 
some very rash offers to punch the heads of a few boys 
double his size, because they dared laugh at his protege. 
He was quite enthusiastic about the success of his new pu- 
pil, and on the road homewards offered to bet Harry Quip 
any sum of money under a million dollars that, before the 
end of winter, Percy would be the most accomplished 
skater in the small yard. 

On arriving at the college, Frank called Mr. Middleton 
aside, and with an air of mystery began : 

“ You mustn’t tell anyone what I’m going to say to you, 
Mr. Middleton.” 

“ Very well, Frank. ” 

“ What I want to know, is — can you prove there’s a 
God?” 

“Yes! I believe I can. ” 


184 


PERCY W'YNN, OR 


“.Will you please prove it ? 

Mr. Middleton, suiting his expressions as far as could be, 
to the age of the precocious sceptic, explained several of 
the most evident arguments in favor of the existence of a 
Supreme Being. With close attention, the child listened 
to the clear exposition. 

“ I see it, now, Mr. Middleton,” he said when the pre- 
fect had come to a pause. “ But do you know ? — it seems 
so queer. I don’t feel as if I were the same boy at all that 
I was two days. ago. Everything looks so different. Percy 
told me ^fhat there was a God, but he didn’t prove it. I 
want things proved. I’m so glad to know it’s true. Mr. 
Middleton, I want to ask you something else. Is it bad to 
hate people?” 

“ Of course. God loves all men, and he wants us to love 
them too. ” 

Well, Mr. Middleton, would you think a boy like me, 
and my size, could be bad, and even wish he was dead ? ” 

“ Why not? Little boys can be wicked as well as grown 
men. St. Augustine, who lived a very holy life when he 
had become a grown man, said of his boyhood — ‘ lantillus 
puer et tantus peccator ’ — ‘ So small a boy, so great a sin- 
ner. ’ He was a bad boy ; but got over it. ” 

“ I’m glad to know that: I was thinking, you see, that 
I wasn’t like anybody else. I’ve been hon'id. ” 

Mr. Middleton laughed at this naive confession. 

“ 0 ! but I’m bad — terribly bad, ” protested Frank. “ I’d 
like to shoot Buck; and this morning I got mad and wished 
I was dead. ” 

But now you know it’s very wrong, would you shoot 
Buck, if you had the chance ? ” 


185 


' MAKING A I’.OY OF II TM. 

“ Xo — o! I wouldn’t now ; but I’d Hhr to. ” 

“ Tlion, its not so wrong. ” 

To Frank’s ovidont rolioT, Mr. Middleton explained that 
wickedness does not consist in the way wc feel, but in the 
yielding to our bad fec'lings. He showed tiiat the inclina- 
tion to do wrong is a temptation — notin itself a sin, but 
capable of becoming sinful by the assent of the free-will. 
All of this, he made clear by an abundance of j)ractical e.x;- 
amples. 

“ Thank you, sir, ” said Frank, when lie liad mastered 
the e.vplanation ; “Fm going to be good after this. Will 
y<uihelpme?” 

C’ertainly, my dear boy; and to-morrow when we com- 
memorate the birth of the infant Jesus, ask him to help 
you too. ” 

‘" Indeed I will, sir. He loved little boys, so Percy told 
me, and I love Him ; and I’m going to try to do something 
to [>lease Him. And I’m going to write to my papa and 
get him to l(>ve. Our Lord too. ” 

t'hristmas morning dawned, ushered in by a snow storm. 
According to tlie sweet and hallowed custom of the place, 
the students attended three ^lassc's. The clear voices of 
the singers — faint echoes of the angelic choirs — the Ix'unti- 
ful vestments of celebrant and acolytes ; the joyous decora- 
tion and splendor of the altar ; above all, the fervor and 
devotion, which cast gleams of glory over the faecvs of the 
young worshi|»p(w.s, tilled Frank witli wonder and delight. 
Hut hardly did lie lake liis eyes for a moment from the 
pretty Bethlehem Crib, (iuito naturally he joined his little 
Iiauds in prayer for the first time, and begged the sweet In- 
fant, who so loved little children, to enrioli him with feel- 


186 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


ings of kindness and good will towards all his fellow-crea- 
tures. 

As the students, at the end of the ceremonies, were de- 
scending the stairs to the refectory, Percy, catching up 
with Frank, clapped him on the back. 

“ Happy Christmas, Frank ! ” 

“ O, it is happy. I never felt so happy in all my life. 
Percy, your religion is mine. IPs all so nice. Say, — let’s 
stop here on the stairs a moment. I want to catch Donnel 
and Keeimn, and Harry and Tom. ” 

Percy called these as they were passing. 

Schoolboy-like, and Christmas-like, they were all happy 
and smiling, shaking hands with each other heartily, and 
speaking from full hearts those pretty words, so fitting to 
the time, so sweetened by precious memories. 

“ Boys, ” said Frank earnestly, w’hen he had at length se- 
cured their attention, “ I’ve been praying at the Infant 
Jesus ; and I want to join your religion. I’ll never wish I 
was dead again ; and if Buck were drowning in the river, ” 
concluded the little mite impressively, “ I’d jump right in 
,and save him ! ” 


CHAPTER XX. ‘ 

A MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL. ' 

It was a joyful breakfast that Christmas morning. 
Loud were the exclamations of pleasure and pleased sur- 
prise, as each boy, on lifting his plate, found beneath it a 
pretty Christmas card. 

“ It never happened before,” remarked Harry Quip, who 
had been attending St. Maure’s for three years. “ Mr. 
Middleton is always getting up some nice surprise. He’s a 
daisy !” 

“ It makes the place so like home,” Joe Whyte observed. 

“ But isn’t it a glorious Christmas morning?” exclaimed 
Willie Ruthers. “The snow is falling so prettily. A 
Christmas without snow is like a story without an end.” 

“ Or bread without butter,” put in Joe. 

“ Or an angel without wings,” added Donnel, who presid- 
ed over this cheerful table. 

“ Or a cat without its meaw !” chuckled Harry. 

All the other tables were accommodating an equally 
jolly company. Loud praises of Mr. Middleton, merry 
greetings, jokes and jests flew from mouth to mouth : while 
above the din could be heard the musical voice of Percy, 
and the shrill piercing laugh of Frankie Burdock for the 
nonce, the lightest heart of all. It was indeed a merry 
Christmas. 

Breakfast ended, Mr. Middleton announced that the 
Christmas boxes from home were all awaiting the inspection 
of their owners in the study-hall. Then reading out the 


rKnCY WYNX, OK 


:18S 

jiaivios oi those wliose l)oxes liad arrived — Avith the excep- 
tion of Frant and a very few others, all were on the list — 
he reqxuvsted tlu; hap[>y proj)rietors not to eat any of the 
good things till the regular hour sc't aj>art for this purpose 
—ten o’clock a. ni. This visit extrnoolinary, he exjdained 
was simply allowed for the jturpose of gi-atifying a natural 
and legitimate curiosity. 

t’orthwith, there was a tremendous liurrying, ])ushing J. 
ami crowding, each hoy striving to be the first out of the 
refectory. Tiie exodus, it must be confessed, was rather 
disorderly. i\I.r. Middleton remained calm, however. 

dhristmas,” he reflected, “ comes but once a year.” 
AVhen Frank ha«l suceeeded in making his way out of the 
crusli at the refectory door, lie found I’erey, Tom, and 
Harry awaiting him. . 

“Onne on, old man,” cried Tom ; “ we want you to lielp 
us look at our boxes.” 

“ Hiere’s none for me,” Frank made answer in a sad 
tone. “ My papa doesn’t believe in C’hristrnas yet. He’ll 
never think of sending me a Christmas box. But he’s just 
as kind as can be. No : I don’t care about going u|).” 

“Frank, do comC',” ])leaded Berey in his most ])ersuasive 
accents. “ Half the pleasure of opening my box will be 
gone, if you don’t come along.” 

“ Same way with me,” said Tom. 

“ IVlo too,” added Harry. 

“ Then, I’ll go,” said Frank. 

They ascended the stndy-hnll stairs. The large room 
j>rescuted a very cheerful appearanee indeed. The study 
benehes had been removed the day })revious. On the floor 
alongside the wall, were disposed very small boxes and 


MAK!X(! A jJoV or HJM. 


180 


vojy boxes, :hk 1 boxt's ol’ ;ili sij'os ],K't\veen. tlieir 

^)\viiOfs’ tiaiiKN, to avoib iiii-takcs, elearly wriUen on slips 
ol ]»;ip(‘r ])inne.<l upo^i ibe wuin.seot. Some w(‘re trippinji' 
liither ;m<l tliitlier sf'eijjii for tbeir names, others down <m 
llieir Icrn'es beb.n’e tludr diseo\'(*red propertv were b'verisiily 
]'»nllin<r out evt'ry eoneeivaldt' form of ]>resent from tlie 
Christnias turkey to the <’iirislnms Jliustrnted .Alaga/.ine ; 
otlu'r.s ag-siin weri* daneitig about llu'ir lK>xes, pleasantly 
tantalizing^ llnmiselves as to what were the hiddmi 
treasures within: ererybody was lalkirijL^ either to Ids 
neighbor or if Ids neighbor ehaneed to be over oeeu])ied, to 
himself. On this oeeasion, the walls may have had ears; 
eertainly the boys had j»ot. ' • 

Perev,. with Frank at his side, soon fotmd Ids l)ox : no 
<lilh(‘ult matter after all, for it was an ejjormous box — the 
largest in ti»e room. * ' 

< ), my 1 what a big box,” Frank ohstu’ved. 

“ AVb'll, you I’ve got bm sisters,” (“xplaiiied Perev 
merrily, as l»o stoopcai and threw baek tlte eover, “ and 
everyone of ihein lias to put in her }»aitieular gift. 
They’re idee girls; they’re so fond of me.” 

'J'he box proved to be a veritable eurio.sity shop. P>ooks 
in ju-etty Jioliday 1l»inding, magazines with colored engrav- 
ings, exquisite (’hristmas cards, glovi's, shoes, a sealskin 
cap, ear mulls, silk scarfs, nock-ties, boxes of fine French 
candy, the traditional turkey, cakes, fruit, nuts — my pen 
in juitting them <lown is getting wt'avy. 

As these gifts emerged from their obscurity, Frank’s eyes 
0 }>ened very wide, he was ftdly as debglited as tliey were 
for Percy as though they were all for himself, and 
inoinentariJy throwing ofl his old-fa.shioned ways, he broke 


190 . . PERCY WYNN, QR 

into cheers and danced about the box. 

“ Look, Frank, look ! I knew there was something for 
you,” said Percy taking up the prettiest of the silken 
scarfs, and attempting to put it around Frank’s neck. But 
the lad drew back. 

. .“No, no,” he piped, “it’s yours, everything’s yours.” 

“ But this is for you, Frank.” 

“ Prove it! prove it!” cried the infant logician. 

“ If you don’t take this scarf,” said Percy ceasing to 
smile, “I’ll not enjoy my box near so much. See! there’s 
a whole lot of scarfs — I don’t want them all.” 

Frank suffered himself to be persuaded ; and Percy in 
his dainty way adjusted the gift about his little friend in 
the most approved taste. Notwithstanding his refusal at 
first, Frank was very prpud of his present, and could not 
conceal his happiness. His bright chestnut eyes sparkled 
with pleasure, as he tripped across -the room to show Tom 
his acquisition. 

“ Why, old man, what’s this ? You’re a regular out-and- 
out dude.” 

“ Don’t care a snap what I am. It’s from Percy.” 

“ But what’s the matter with your jacket pockets?’’ 
asked Tom gravely. “They look queer.” 

“ What is it, Tom ? are they torn ?” 

“ Come here: I’ll show you.” 

Frank drew nearer, and Tom catching him in a firm 
hold proceeded to fill his pockets with candy, nuts, and 
raisins. 

“ Now they look all right — as round and as large as the 
moon when it’s full.” ! ' 

“ Come back here, Frank,” interrupted Percy, “ I want 


MAKING A BOY OF FlM. 


191 


you.” • ■■ ■ 

Frank, in great glee,' skipped across to Percy. 

“ Here’s something else for you, Frank— O, you needn’t 
draw back. It’s a prayer-book and I have three already. 
You’ll need one, yoii know, if you want to ‘ get religion.' ” 

Frank was too delighted forewords. He took the beauti- 
ful silver clasped book of devotion, opened it with eager- 
ness, and ran over page after page."' Presently a picture 
fell out. 

“ O ! O ! Look I” he exclaimed, picking it up. “ If it 
isn’t the stable at Bethlehem and the Little Babe, who 
loved childrenl Isn’t it nice. Here, Percy, you take it, 
it’s yours.” •" 

“ No, indeed,” Percy made answer, “ it’s for you, every- 
thing in the took is for you.^ It’s my Christmas gift for 
little Frank.” 

‘‘ I’ll be big some day,” answered Frank seriously, “ and 
then ! intend to give you a house and lot, with a carriage 
and a coachman in a cocked hat and gold buttons on his 

coat.”' ' ' ' 

And what’ll you give Tom ?” asked Percy struggling 
to keep a straight face. 

“ I’ll give him a bag of gold.” 

Frank was precocious : but 'in many things he was far 
ii’om beiiig an “ old man.”' ' ' 

Word went round anibng the' toys ' tliat “ little Frank,” 
as they called him, tad not received a Christinas box. 
This was ‘enough tb awaken^’ their sympathies. Dohnel, 
Keenan, Eichards, ' and, indeed, a whole bost of the 
students were soon upon hiin with every imaginable species 
of confectionary. Frank had his brekth fairly taken away 


Y WYXN', Oil 


ir>2 

]»v tlu'ir l\in<ltK*ss. TIijU his sliotiltl sitowcr att('nti()fi.s 

upon iiiin was a m:ftt<‘r which he had iK’cn hr()U!i;i>t up to 
expect. I>ut that these hoys. ei»uipa.rati ve. strangers to 
liini. sliould he lavish of kiixl wools and gilts was sonu'- 
thing he could s<-aree]y realize. Ir» sheer s(‘lf pnheetiou 
from their exuheraiice of kinduess^ he made Ids escaj>e 
fnmi tlie study-hall. 

I'or tile first time sima* his arrival ir» St. Maure’s, Percy 
plotted a practic.-il joke, falling; to-g<>(her Tom, Itounel, 
Ixeenan, f^uip ami a few oiIkm’s, he thus spoke. 

Hoys, I’ve an idiat.’’ 

“ Ifurrali,” said 'Pom ironicaljv, lf(*ar, hear!” 

Poor Frank’s father will hardly think of .sending him 
a ( ’hristmas 1h>x. 8uppose we club together, and get U{» 
one for him ourselv(\s. Lie won’t think we <lid it, if we go 
alM)ut it rpiietly. It’ll he a good joke.” 

” ( ), it’s just too fiijuiy,” said Harry .solemnly. “ Put 
joke or not, it’s just the thing. I’ve got sometliiug that 
will suit L'rauk to a dot. My grandma’s got the idea that 
Pm no older now than when I last s{iw lier. I was seven 
then.” 

“ Vour graiidma is perfectly right,” muttered Tom in 
parenthesis. 

“ Well, anyhow, she's .sent me an immense pieture-hook 
with all kinds of fairy tales told in words of not more than 
two sylhihles. ft’s the very tiling for Frank.” 

“ ’rhat is,” interposed lv(‘euaii, “ if you’re willing to give 
it uj». ft’s just what you need, you know — For my i)art, 
f’U undertake to supply a box of camly.” 

“ And f,” said Dounelj “a turkey. But I won’t starve 
all the same. I’ll live on your turkey, George.” 


MA-KING a boy of him. 

' ' ■‘■‘I ‘ .. 


198 


Before the boys liad ^iiishecl de(*]aiing what they, should 
-give of their abundance, Tom, who had left them for a 
monient, , entered with a large box. Forthwith, in went 
•caiuly, oranges, cakes, turkey, books and 'vyhat not. In a 
•short time, there awaited, Frank, a box in no wise inferior 
to the best in the hall^ . , , 

• ■■ ■ J • i . •:„;i 'vJ 

, . .\ndso when ten o’clock had come, Frank was informed 
by Mr,,Kane, ,vyho enjoyed the confidence of the, coiispira- 
,,tors, that something had arrived ..for liim too. . Frank 

' ■ • • . - 'cl ;r;i 'V- 

dashed, offto the study .hall ; and it was indeed ludicrous, a 
moment later , to see him running about among his .friends, 


and insisting on their taking a share of the good things,. In 
some, cases, the generous lads were fairly, forced by,, the ar- 
dent Frank to receive what thev themselves had given. " 

The day, it is almost needless ^ to remark,^ passed very 
happily ; and at night a climax of enjoyment \yas reached 
when Dickens’ famous Christmas carol of Scrooge & Mar- 
ley (dramatized by one of the profess(>rs) was played be- 
fore faculty and students. 

In the opening scene, Frank, who had had no previous 
theatrical experience, created quite a diversion. He had 
been listening for some time, with ill-concealed indignation 
to Scrooge’s remarks ; but when that hard-handed, griping, 
business-machine said with great disdain ; “ Christmas! — 

Humbug! ” Frank could restrain himself no longer. 

Mounting his chair, he stamped his foot, and angrily 


shook his diminutive fist at the brutal miser. 

“ It’s a lie, you old Scrooge ! and you ought to l>e 

ashamed of yourself. You’re a wicked ” 

The rest of the sentence was cut short by the energetic 
action of Tom, who, catching the indignant orator’s feet, 


PKUry WYNN, OK 


194 

brouglit him down rather suddenly 

Amidst the roar that greeted tliis diversion, 'rom and 
J?eiey ex})laijied to Frank the liatiireand object of plays in 
gejieral ; which so cleared tliat young gentleman’s mind 
tliat he presently expressed himself satisfied, and implied 
that he had no objections to the performance’s going on. 

In the dormitory that nigiit, Frank, before retiring to 
rest, knelt down after the manner of his friends, and |)Iac- 
ing before him the picthre of the Xafivity, clasped 4) is 
hands in prayer. An hour later, Mr. Kane, notii'ing that 
the child manifested no disposition to retire, thought it 
well to put an end to t.'.ese lengthy devotions.’ f)n advanc- 
ing to Frank’s side, however, he found that ' the ‘ kneeling 

child, worn out with the pleasures and emotions of the dav, 

."''<='■ 6 ... 

was peacefully sleeping, his lijis pressed upon the picture 
of .the “ infant who loved little childreii. ” 

' ''v ■' . .vs 


;; : CHAPTER xxr. 

AX’^Amn-INTrilE OK THK;Ii[AILll()Al» TRA('K. 

It would be a Icnig task to describe in detail the varied 
aniustunents of Christinas week. Skating, dancing, the 
nightly play, iu-<U)or games and out-door sport, caused 
these days to pass on the Avings of happiness and mirth. 

With all this, little Prank cohtrived to “get religion” 
in time and out of time. Just six days after his arrival, he 
was reduced to jUairs, and, T regret io state, made quite a 
show' of temper, when Ids pi'reinptory request that the 
Presi<.lent should bajitize him on the spot, was denied. But 
he soon regained his ealm ness of denVeariour, and, under 
favor of tlie Ih^esident’s promise that he slioiVld be baptized 
once he knew his catechism well bv heart, lie set.tn work at 
the study of this little l»ook with sucli aidof that Percy 
c</Uld scarcely pursuade him to come out skating," * 
l'"'rank very^ ediictually prevented Mr, Kane and Mr 
Atiddleton from iK-iComing lonesome. XT* sixnier did either 
of these worthy prefects put in an appearance in the " yard 
tluui lie bore down upon them and played the part of an 
animated interrogation point. Like" the gentleman of the 
court room, Frank wanted “’tlie' truth, the wliole trutli 
and nothing but the truth.’ 

He w'as especially hard ujxm Mr. Middleton. 

“ Prove itJ ” he would calmly say when Mr. Middleton 
had advaneed some simple stateliienl which any other boy 
living would have taken forgrahted, 


190 


PEKCY WYXN, OR 


But beyond all doubt, lie did master his catechism. 
(')nly as a matter of jirudence was his reception into the 
church delayed. Meanwhile Percy picked up so rapidly 
in skating, that his professor could gracefully allow his pu- 
pil to shift for himself. Percy was still awkward upon the 
ice; but that defect, like youthfulness, is something which 
time alone can correct. 

On the last day of the old year, an event occured which 
exercised a strong influence upon Percy’s character. 

Shortly after breakfast, the boys went to “ the lakes ’’ for 
a day’s skating. Early in the afternoon, Percy feeling un- 
well, obta,ined permission from the presiding ])refect to re- 
turn to college. Frank wished to serve as his companion, 
but Percy would not hear of this. 

“ No, you stay, Frank. You need a little more out door 
exercise: You’re wearing your little brains out with that 
catechism. 1 think Tom had hetter come with me. ” 

This choice of Tom had, most probably, an iinportant 
bearing on after events. They walked along the railroad 
track for over a mile without meeting with anyone. Biit 
just as. they were about to pass over' a tre‘stle-\york‘ bridge 
(intended only for engine and cars)' above a deep ravine, a 
man who had been hidden fnnn their sigl>t by the steep 
bank, arose, and taking his statioii on the track awaited 
their advance. He was gaunt, arid haggard of face. His 
beard, of sevei’al days growth, imparted to his features a 
weird aspect. His eyes, deep-sunk, glittered with a dread- 
ful light. The clothes upon him were tattered, scanty — 
too few, God knows, for such bitter weather. His shoes 
scarcely protected his feef at all, Standing thei'e on the 
raili’oad track, with his pinched featui'es, shining eyes and 


MAK.lXn ,.A HOY OF 


197 


wretched attire, lie, was the picture of niiserv and woe. 

O, Torn, .’’-Percy exelaiuiod in a whisper, as he caught 
Tom’s arm, “ Let’s turn back ; that man looks like a wolf. 
He’s a stick -in his hand, too. , Perhaps he may attack us. ” 
“ (>, i.I guess not, ’’..said Tom coolly. But if he starts 
to attack, it wilPbe tinie enough to runaway then. ” 

.^So ^ Tom, wi th Percy timidly clinging to his arm, walked 
boldly on. 

“ Crood evening, ” he said as they arrived within a few 
feet of the wretch who was evidently awaiting them. 

• The nran scanned them hungrily then fastened his .eyes 
on Percy. Percy shivered. 

“ Boy, ” he said, “ what time is it?’’ 

Percy- with trembling fingers took out his watch. 

■“Half past two; sir; ” i-. ^ ^ 

"The hikn advanced a step on thenu Toni drew Percy 
habk’’ ■ r ■■ ; 

■ ‘“' Keep' ' oft, wilL you?” Tom ^ exclaimed.., I reckon 
vbii’te n'eareiiough: ” • 

Upon seeing Percy ’s- pretty gold watch, ..Ihe man’s feat- 
ures had,'if possible, taken on a yet hungrier appearance. 

Hand me that vvatch, young TelloWf and Pll let , you 
bdth go. ”. ^ 5 

“We’ve got to run,” whispered Tom quickly;, and lie 
and Percy, both thoroughly frightened, turned and ’dashed 
bai.k towards the lakes! At once the man was after them, 
and ’ the sound of hi, s footfalls at their ■ back * inspired r both 

boys to tremendous ejfertibiis. ’ ' - • . - . - 

Quicker— -quicket yet, ’’ panted Toni as tliey sped .on, 
not even daring to look around at their pursuer, lest they 
should Ibae ground, “i think- he’s gaining on us-.” 


108 prjicY'w' YN^^, (ur • ■ 

'riioy inadi^ f(>r\YaV(I for some lihie in silenceV not a sound 
upon tlio stiflness, save their own labored breathing, and 
the (unuunis footfall behind. ' 

Presenrly Tom, judiring from the sound of the pursuer’s 
feot^hat it would he' safe, ventured’ to turn hb-head. ^ 

“ t’lioer up, Percy,” he said. “He’s falling baek.h 'At 
first, 1 think,Tie gain(Mroh ‘ usV but 'ii6\v he's .l(w»big'aw- 
fuih-.” • ■ ; ^ 

A minute ])assed. ' f >< ■: t « s . . i - 

'Pom t(M>k aiidtlier look. * • ' ' ■ d 

“He’s almost* out of the race. He can’t run wortii a 
C('nt. ” e- 

Presently ho added : ' i' . / 

“ Why, he has' st'op[>edd Hold on; we’re all rights T^ervy. 
He’s at least two huudred h'ot (►ff. Let’s take a rest , too. 

lh>th turned, and feeling t hat they were auit , of. danger, 
took a full look at their defeated pursuer. An exclama- 
tion of surprise’ broke from the lij>s of Percy. The man’s 
actions were eertaiuly strange. A'^ot only had he sh)pj)ed ; 
he had taken a seat on a railroad tiy. . 

“ Well, I declare !T said Tom. . “ He doesn’t take, niueh 
interest in ,gold watches after all. ,,, Holloa ! ” • 

This exclamation was evoked by the man’s lying down 
across the track. 

“ 0, my Trod ! ” cried Percy in dismay. 

“ Is he but of his mind queried T(nn. 

“ No, ” answered 'PereVi ib T am Ijegiuniug to .see now. 
That man must be sick. Do you remeiiiber the look of 
his thin face, and his hollow . eye ? Tom,, we must go to 

Percy w'as now' as resolute as lie had before been timid. 


M A KINO- A BOY OF HIM. 


1 99 

“ All right/’ Tom agreed. “ But to make sure, I’ll get 
Momething to protect ourselves with.” 

He quickly secured a stout stick, which he happened to 
]icrceive lying near by, and armed with this, he and I’ercv 
ad vauce<l' towards tlieir jairsuer. 

. ‘‘ Hay» ” exclaimed Tom when they had come \yitliin a 
few yards of the !uotionless form, “get up off the track. 

■ There-may, be a train along liere any minute. ” 

At these words, the man raised his head and starc<l at 
them listlessly. 

“Are you sick?” pursued Tom. . i - 

“ Tw ^ 

’ ■'There \\%sn-drearl soleninity about those two words, 
which, were Percy and Tom to live into the centuries^, they 
will never forget. y 

“ < ) my' Hod ! ” -cried' Percy; .clasping his hands. 

Tom’s tone and feelings were at once changerh': 

“ Can we help yon, my ; poor fellow ? ” he asked ; and 
throwing aside his sticky he-advanced with I’ercy,. ,, ,, 

The man paused, tlitm aiiswered slowly : 

“ I’m ])ast help, 1 think. ” " ; 

Percy had been gazing at him intently. 

“ O Tom, 'Tom ! he’s stariimj.- And Percy sobbed. 

The man looked up with a bewildered air. 

“ r am starving, boy,” he said." - 

Tom* happened to liave a cake in his pocket. He drew 
it forth and handed it to the poor creature. ’ 

“ Try to eat it, ” he said gently and tenderly. “ It’s the 
'only thing I’ve got, ‘my friend. ” 

The man accepted the gift, and made an attempt to eat. 
In the very act, a sudden fit of .coughing came upon him, 


% 


200 


I’KRCY WYNNV OK 


and he spat up a mouthful of blood. ‘ ■ ' 

“Tliank you, my boy, ” h^'s.iid feebly. ' I’m past the 
need of bread. ” ' ^ 

“Shall wv'take yoti off the track, sir?’’ asked Toni. ' 

The poor fellow, who had raised himself upon his skinny 
arm to receive thecake, in lieu of answer to‘ this question, 
fell back prone. /. v 

Tom, throwing off his overcoat and jacket, spread them 
on a patch of soft eartli just beside the railroad track. 

“ We must (*{ii\ch hold of him, and place him there, 
IVrcy, ’’ he said gravely. ■■ • . ' 

They carried the poor fellow with little troiible—he was 
light enough — to this spot. Then Percy drew off his, .coat 
and wrapped it arpnnd their patient. 1 . , 

Tom would have restrained him. ■ ; • 

“ You’re sick yourself, Percy ’’ he said ; “ you’ll risk in- 
juring yourself. ■ r' • :• ,, j 

■ “ This is a time for risks, Tom. ’’ • . ..,i .... 

The man’s fierce aspect had softened. , 

“ You’re good boys— good boys, he panted,. J’m 
s(»rry. I should have asked you for help, instead of. trying 
to rob you. ” : ■ ■ • ... . 

There was a moment’s pause. Torn . was in a brown 
study. Save the labored breathing of the; dying wiretcli 
there was a deathly .stillries. ; . .= 

“ Percy, ” said Tom at length, “ are y()U, afraid »to^ stay 
alone with this poor man?” , . . .‘: 

■ “O, no.” ■ , , ... ... 

“ I think he is dying. And it seems . to me oiie, of up 
should go for assistance;. ^ - 

“I’ll stay,. Tpiny You are, the better runner, 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


201 


“Very well. I’ll rini for St. Maures and try to get a 
wagon or something. ” 

And Tom, at his highest speed, started across the trestle- 
work bridge, heedless of the danger. Danger ! was there 
not a life in question ? 

So there stood Percy, alone with the sick man. 

“ Cheer up, sir, ” he said presently. “ Tom has run on 
to get assistance. ” 

“ It’s too late. ” ^ 

“ Do you really think you’re going to die ?” 

“Yes.” 

Percy breathed a prayer to the Blessed Virgin. 

Then he again spoke. 

“ Well, if you’re going to die, sir, hadn’t you better 
think of the other world ? ” 

The man’s face, thus far apathetic, became troubled. 

“ I’m going to hell, ”*he said. “ For the last two years 
I’ve been leading a very wicked life. ” 

Percy dwelt upon these words. 

“ But you weren’t always wicked?” he at length said. 

“ No ; once I was happy and contented. Then I wasn’t 
so bad. ” — As he spoke, fresh life seemed to infuse itself 
into the man. “ I was happy in a dear wife and an only 
child — a boy. ” Here the narrator raised himself on his 
arm, and continued with more animation. “I was what they 
call a ‘ skilled mechanic, ’ and received very good wages. 
But troubles came on between some of the men and the 
bosses. There was a strike. I was a member of an associ- 
ation, and had to go out with the rest. The strike passed 
away ; but my work never came back. I saw my wife’s 
cheeks grow paler day by day. I saw her face grow thin 


202 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


ner and thinner. Then I offered myself for any kind of 
work. But even with the poor work and poor pay I got, it 
was too late. When she smiled upon me for the last time, 
and died of want, I gave up God. ” 

“ O, poor fellow ! ” Percy exclaimed, the tears arising to 
his eyes. “ It was hard ; but you should have prayed the 
more — Here — it is hard for you to rest on your hand put 
your head on my knees. ” 

Percy seated himself, and placed the man in this easier 
position. 

“You are a good boy. I would like to say ‘God bless 
you ; ’ but it would mean nothing from me — As I was say- 
ing, my boy was left me — and how I loved him, and I 
worked, worked, worked, at anything to provide for him. 
But the times grew worse ; he died of fever. Then I 
cursed God. ” 

A visible shudder passed over Percy ; and while he said 
nothing aloud, his lips moved in prayer. 

“ I was almost crazed with grief, ” continued the man. 
“ From that hour I hated the wealthy ; I hated law ; I 
hated order. It was wrong, I knew ; but I was determined 
to live wicked. From that hour I became a tramp, a thief, 
a companion of villains and murderers. And now you ask 
me to think of another life. I have no hope. ” 

“ But God will forgive you, if you repent. ” 

The man considered. Percy, whose whole soul was bent 
on bringing his com})anion to repentance, noticed, even as 
he watched the haggard countenance, that snow was begin- 
ning to fall, silent and soft. 

I cannot hope it ; no, I’ve lived bad, and I’ll die bad. ” 
“ But think of Jesus dying on the cross, ” urged Percy, 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


203 


his face kindling with earnestness. “ He shed every drop 
of his blood for you. ” 

“ Yes, ” came the groaning answer; “ and I’ve spurned 
it. ” 

In the agitation of the moment, Percy prayed aloud. 

“ O, my God, my God, what shall I say to bring this 
creature to Thee ? — >ty friend — my dear friend, on that 
cross, and while He was suffering so bitterly, Christ forgave 
a thief, who had been leading a whole life of sin. Now 
Christ is no longer in bitter pain ; He is happy. Speak to 
Him, my friend. You have sinned, but He will forgive 
you. It is impossible for you to go to Confession, but do 
make your peace with God. You have but one soul. ” ^ 

The man listened earnestly. With each second the pal- 
lor upon his face was increasing ; and now drops of sweat 
were standing upon his brow. Even at this supreme mo- 
ment, when the Judgment seat of God seemed to be await- 
ing an immortal soul, Percy observed that the flakes were 
falling faster each minute, 

“ Do you think He might forgive me?” 

“ O, surely ; and I think he will pity and love you the 
more, my friend, ‘for the very reason that you are dying 
like him — under the sky, and deserted by all. ” 

“ 0, if I could repent ! I fear it is too late. ” 

More slowly, more heavily, he was fetching his breath. 
The snow was falling thicker and faster. Percy realized 
with a sense of awe, such as he had never felt before, that a 
soul was, as it were, in his keeping. Suddenly his face 
lighted up as with an inspiration. He placed his hand in 
his pocket, and drew forth a small silver crucifix— a Christy 
mas present from one of his sisters. 


204 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


“ Kiss it, my friend, for the love and the memory of our 
Savior, who died on the cross. ” 

“ I’m afraid to dare it, ” moaned the wretch with a 
shiver. “ O, God ! I haye been so wicked. I am corrupt. 
Go away from me, boy! I am not even worthy to be near 
a pure child. I am cursed. Leave me. ” 

In answer to this, Percy raised the dying creature’s pal- 
lid head and imprinted a kiss on the forehead. “ O, my 
God, ” he murmered in the act, “ have pity on him. ” 

The dying man’s face softened still more. 

“ My boy, ” he said, “.if you are so good, God must be 
good, too. ” 

“ Yes, yes, ” said Percy eagerly, “ He is infinitely good. ’* 
Every w^ord, every breath on the part of the dying man 
was now an effort. About that poor creature, struggling 
for air and life, frolicked the madcap snow. 

“ But — He — knows — ” he paused for a time, through 
sheer lack of strength — then went on — “ all my sins ; you 
don’t. ” 

“ As God is looking down on us, my friend, I know that 
He will forgive you and love you — 'and were your sins a 
thousand times greater than they are. ” 

A moment’s silence, broken by the long-drawn gasps of 
the dying. He made an attempt to speak. Percy bent 
nearer to catch the words. 

“ Crucifix ! ” — that was what the boy made out. Percy 
brought the crucifix to the man’s lips. He kissed it ten- . 
derly. 

“ Thank God, ” murmered Percy. He added aloud : — 
“ Now, my dear friend, if you wish to enjoy the company 
of Jesus forever ; if you wish to see your wife and little boy 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


205 


again, you must make an act of perfect contrition for your 
sins. Do YOU wish to do so?” 

The man nodded his head in assent. 

“Well : it is a great grace. You must be sorry for hav- 
ing offended God, who is infinitely perfect and good. Now 
pray to God quietly and from your heart for one moment 
that you may get this grace. I shall pray with you.” 

There was a period of silence. In the pal])able still- 
ness, the snow was falling more and more quickly. Again 
the awful silence was broken by the whistle of a train far 
up the track. 

“ Come,” resumed Percy, as the faint echo of the whistle 
died away ; “ are you ready ?” 

The upturned face signified assent. 

“ Good. Now repeat the words after me as I speak 
them. And first of alV kiss the crucifix once more.” 

As the man complied, the rumble of a distant train 
came faintly on their cars. 

“ Now,” continued Percy, “ repeat after me — ‘ My 
Jesus, Mercy.’ ” 

Percy bent low to catch the faintest whisper, the 
rumbling noise was growing more distinct. Percy had 
read of the death rattle. Even as he bent over, he heard 
an ominous sound from the man’s throat. Surely there 
could be no time to lose. 

“ O my God,” he said. 

“ O, my God,” repeated the dying. 

“ I am most heartily sorry.” 

The rumble was now sharpening into a rattle. 

“ For all my sins ” 

“ And I detest them ” 


206 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


“ From the bottom of my heart ” 

As Percy stooped to catch these last words, the man 
broke into a cough ; more blood came : and while the train 
in its magnificence swept by, bearing with it strength and 
power and wealth, bearing with it mortals whose fattened 
purses had never opened to aid poverty, to aid distress, 
bearing with it a multitude, sufficient, in united action, to 
save a million from death and despair ; this outcast of the 
world, this wretched sport of seeming caprice went forth 
in prayer to meet his God. 

Let men call him socialist, anarchist, a creature worthy 
of the halter. Yes, let us punish our anarchists when they 
violate our most sacred laws. But we shall save prison 
fare and more, if we treat the poor and the oppressed as 
true children of the One Father, who is in heaven. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


IN WHICH TOM MEETS TWO YOUNG GENTLEMEN, WHOM 
HE IS NOT AT ALL ANXIOUS TO SEE. 

Meantime Tom was on his way villageward. For fully 
a mile, his sturdy little legs bore him bravely along. The 
weather was cold ; the air was keen ; Tom was strong as to 
chest and limbs : the exercise, to one of his endurance, was 
refreshing. His breath came and went with the steadiness 
and fullness of a professional sprint-runner. With his 
hat well down over the eyes ; head erect ; chest inflated? 
his elbows pressed tightly to his side; his fists doubled — he 
formed a pleasant picture to all lovers of athletics. None 
were there, indeed, as he sped onwards at a sturdy, unfalter- 
ing pace. 

Very soon he came hj sight of the village. 

“ Brace up, old fellow,” he whispered to himself. 
“ Come on now, for all you’re worth. It’s a good mile off 
yet, but you must make it under eight minutes or you’re 
no good.” 

“ Yes he added presently, “ I’ll be there in six minutes 
sure.” 

But there’s many a slip. Hardly had he finished address- 
ing himself the remark just set down, when he perceived 
in the distance two figures advancing along the railroad 
track. They were both human beings and of the masculine 
gender : that he could make out. But whether they were 
men or boys, his eyesight failed to reveal. 

“ Wonder who they are ?” he muttered. “ Well, I hope 
they’re friends in need. Anyhow, I’ll know'’soon, they’re 
walking towards me.” 


208 


f’ERCY WYNN, OR 


Presently, he descried a small wicker basket dependent 
on an arm of one, and three or four skates, tied together 
by a strap in the hands of the other. The bearer of the 
skates was much the smaller of the two. and clearly a boy. 

As Tom drew within the range of accurate eyeshot, he 
gave a low, prolonged whistle. Both were boys, and boys, 
too, that he desired to see least of all the boys, dwelling, 
at that moment, upon the round earth. The larger, he 
easily recognized as DonnePs village gladiator — the famous 
Buck : the smaller lad, as Tom rightly inferred, was 
George Keenan's whilom opponent. 

They in turn, seemed to recognize Tom as a pupil of St. 
Maure’s college, (the village youth had an unerring 
in-t'nct, when it came to making out a college boy) for 
they at once so altered their proceedings as to give a strong 
and unequivocal hint of coming trouble. The smaller 
hero — Buck’s young satellite — at once threw down his 
skates beside the railroad track, and, unmindful of the 
sharp weather, proceeded to pull off his coat, in such wise 
as to leave no doubt in Tom’s mind concerning the smaller 
hero’s intentions : while the adolescent Buck carefully 
deposited his basket on the bare earth, and composed his 
rugged features into a malignant scowl. 

“ Here’s a how-dy-do,” muttered Tom to himself. “ I’m 
in for it, and no mistake. I’d give two cents for a base-ball 
bat. And besides, I’m in no humor for fussing just now 
anyhow.” 

He stopped running a few yards in ^ront of the two 
belligerents, and was taking a few slow breaths of air pre- 
paratory to speaking, when Buck saved him that office by 
opening the conversation himself. 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


209 


“See li3re, you mean little college chap,” began the 
gloomy browed Buck with fierce earnestness : “ We’re 

looking for fellows like you.” 

“ Come on, you college dandy, and fight,” vociferated 
Back’s young friend in a tone of far less dignity, but of 
equal earnestness. He had already rolled back his shirt 
sleeves to the elbow, revealing two vel-y well developed 
forearms; and, as he spoke, was executing a novel and 
ludicrous war-dance, consisting mainly of a hop forward a 
hop backward, and a wild brandishing of fists ; with an 
occasional leap into the air by way of interlude. In the 
midst of these sprightly movements, he took occasion to 
dash his rasrged hat upon the ground with a high disdain 
of all damages to that valuable bit of wearing apparel. 

Buck, putting his arms a kimbo watched these terpsich- 
orean proceedings with gloomy approval. 

The dancer continued his speech : — 

I can lick any boy my size in that dude school: come 
on, will you ? I’ll black your eyes for you. I’ll bloody 
your nose, and I’ll warm your ears. Come on, won’t you ? 
Come on, I say.” 

As Tom, standing stock still in front of new acquaint- 
ances, listened to this strain of rough, hearty, unscholared 
eloquence, and gazed upon its dancing author, he forgot, 
for a moment, his sacred mission. A merry twinkle shot 
from his eyes, and the muscles of his face so twitched that 
he could hardly refrain, to use his own subsequent expres- 
sion, from “ letting his smiles loose.” The twinkle of the 
eye escaped the attention of the pugnacious orator ; but he 
observed the facial twitching, and inferred, rashly enough, 
that Tom was frightened. Hereupon he became more 


210 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


eloquent : there was even a touch of pathos in his tones. 

“Come on, you bantam,” he implored. “ Come on you 
blow-hard. I’ll fight fair, and just paralyze you. Come 
on, now. Come on will you ?” — Here his dance became 
more impassioned — “ I’ll whop you so’s your own mother 
won’t know you.” 

But all these allurements only served to introduce new 
twitches into Tom’s face, and to intensify those already 
there. Suddenly, however, he sobered. The snow had 
just begun to fall, and the memory of Percy and the dying 
man — both exposed to the inclemency of the season — shot 
back through his mind in all its vividness. 

“ See here, boys,” he said in all seriousness, “ I’m in no 
humor for fighting just now. There’s a man down — ” 

“None of your lies,” broke in Buck. “We don’t care 
whether you feel like fighting or not. But if you don’t go 
to work, and fight Dick like a man. I’ll thrash you till 
you’ll wish you were in Chiny.” 

During this speech of the great leader, Dick was still 
“ leading the dance,” and, in a steady flow of cordial 
eloquence, adjuring Tom to “ come on.” 

But Tom was clinging earnestly to the memory of the 
dying scene he had left at his back. 

“ I won’t fight,” he said decisively. 

“You won’t!” exclaimed Buck. “I knew you was a 
coward 1 Go for him, Dick. Make him fight anyhow.” 

At the word of command, Dick advanced, and made a 
savage drive at Tom, who at once put up his hands. The 
blow was but partially warded ofl* however. Its force was 
diminished ; yet, for all that, it brought out an ugly mark 
on Tom’s cheek. 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


211 


Tom wa^ by no means an over- passionate boy, nor, on 
the other hand, was he an angel in temper. We find that 
even the meekest of mortals fly into a passion on being 
struck. Tom was not the meekest of mortals. He flushed 
angrily — for the second time the memory of his mission 
was driven out of his head, — doubled his fists, and flashed 
back a blow at his assailant. The blow was well-directed. 
It struck Dick squarely on the face, and sent him stagger- 
ing backwards. Tom might have followed up his advantage 
with ease, and, indeed, was on the the point of doing so 
when suddenly his memory asserted itself. There again 
he saw the dying man, the exposed child, the soul — the 
precious, immortal soul — in the balance. He breathed a 
prayer for courage ; grace came down upon him, soft and 
radiant as the gentle snow-flakes now thickening the air. 
He threw down his hands. 

“ Come on,” he said, “ both of you : you can go ahead 
and beat me till you’re tired. I ask you only one favor. 
There’s a man — a poor, starving man — dying, up the track. 
When you’re through with me, for God’s sake go to his 
help. I’m not going to fight with a man’s life on my 
hands. And Dick, I ask your pardon honestly for striking 
you.” 

During these words, one of Tom’s hands had gone into 
his jacket. Doubtless, it was clasping that old, old scapular 
of the Sacred Heart which he had once shown to Percy. 
He was thus seeking help to bear manfully the savage 
revenge of these two boys. His cheeks had blanched; but 
his eye was steady. 

However he wqs not called upon for a great trial of 
endurance: his words must have been the echoes of 


212 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


whispered voices of grace, for no speeoli could have had a 
more impressive effect. 

Dick blushed — actually blushed ! He appeared to be 
thoroughly ashamed of himself, and hastily began to pull 
down his sleeves. Buck’s face relaxed from its gloomy 
sternness ; it softened visibly, and became almost tender in 
its expression. 

“ A poor man dying of starvatian !” he exclaimed. 
“Why didn’t you say so before? We wouldn’t have 
hindered you none, if we’d known that. If it’ll be any 
help to you, I’ve got a bottle of wine with me in that 
basket. It ain’t much, I know ; but you’re welcome to it.” 

“You have!” cried Tom with animation. “Just the 
thing ! It may save him. But there’s no time to lose : 
we’ve got to hurry up. He’s not more than a mile off.” 

“ Come on, then,” said Buck catching up the basket. 
“ We’ll get there on a run.” 

“ Say,” put in Dick hurriedly, “ can’t I be of any help?” 

These words were addressed to Tom : and in such tone 
were they rendered that Tom felt he had received full 
forgiveness. 

“ Yes, Dick my friend,” answered Tom gravely. “You 
can be of great help. Run to the village as fast as you 
can and get a wagon or something. We are friends, are we 
not ?” 

As Tom spoke he slipped a silver dollar into Dick’s 
hand. The poor lad with his patched garments, and 
lacking an overcoat, looked’ indeed, as if he needed the 
money. 

He tried to say something in return for this kindness ; 
but he was unskilled, poor fellow, in the expression of the 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


213 


gentler emotions, and his voice stuck in his throat. He 
passed a tattered sleeve across his eyes, and hurried away. 

Even for the expression of gratitude, silence may* be 
golden. 

Without further words, Tom and Buck took to the 
railroad. During their long run, neither spoke. But for 
all that every step strengthened between them the friendly 
feelings so oddly awakened. It was the “touch of nature” 
' — a poor, deserted, dying outcast — that made them kin. 

* * * * * ■ * * 

The snow falling almost blindingly. A man lying on 
the white robed earth, his face touched and softened by 
the last prayer for mercy ; his features made beautiful by 
the all-composing hand. 

Beside him a kneeling boy absorbed in prayer — heedless 
of snow and cold ; headless of time exposure. No words 
were needed to explain the turn of events to Tom and his 
rude companion. For one instant they gazed upon the 
pathetic sight; then, by a common instinct, fell upon their 
knees beside the dead. And in prayer they all became 
one. 

******* 

When the wagon arrived, and the dead man had been 
sheltered under its canvass-cover, Buck turned to Percy. 

“ Do you remember me ?” he asked. 

Percy looked at him, and, with a sad smile nodded his 
head. 

“ Would you mind shaking hands ?” 

Their hands clasped : they were friends from that hour. 


CHAPTER XXriL 


“ farewell: parting is such sweet s3rro\V' !” 

“ SHAKESPERE.” 

Percy, when first iiitroduccd to the kind reader, was 
C3rtainly very girlish. As the days of his boarding school 
life passed on, some of the more pronounced indications of 
girlishness were rubbed away. 

But, in spite of these unboyish ways, his heroism dis- 
])layed on two occasions, his kindly and sweet disposition, 
and his unfailing generosity won him the love and respect 
of his schoolmates. And yet for all that, there was some- 
thing wanting to round his character. That one thing 
came with his hour in the cold and the snow beside the 
dying man. That hour was the hour of crystallization. 
Percy issued from it, a boy — a real boy in every sense of 
the word. Always kind, cheerful, modest — there came to 
be added to these sweet traits a certain firmness, and manly 
earnestness. Percy began to look at the world with other 
large eyes. He now saw a world^ where much good was to 
be effected ; where much evil was to be put down. From 
that day, then, he looked forward to the doing of some 
great work. He looked forward with earnestness to the 
days when as a man he should take a part in the conflict 
of life, and he was resolved to “ be a hero in the strife.” 

What is this work to be? Time will reveal it? The 
work will surely come ; for Percy has a fine mind and a 
noble heart — and why a fine mind and a noble heart, if not 
for noble deeds ? Whatever this work may be, God, we 
may be sure, shall stamp it with the success which is rec- 
ognized in its fullness beyond the veil of mortal life. 


MAKING A BOY OF HIM. 


215 


But a few words more, and, for tlie present, at least, we 
ara done with our little friends of St. Maure’s. 

Buck and Dick — we take the heavy villains first — 
mended from the memorable day of their meeting with 
Tom and Percy. Slowly, surely, they' threw off’ their 
rowdyish habits: despite the half-concealed sneers of their 
old associates, they made heroic and successful attempts 
towards .gaining a higher standard. Their old clothes, like 
their old manners, were exchanged for better garments. 
How they contrived to dress so nicely, none of the villagers 
could explain. However, I am quite certain that Percy 
Wynn and Tom Playfair could have thrown abundant 
light upon this mystery. In their improved dress and 
with their finer manners, both were frequent visitors at 
the college ; and rumor has it that the coming school year 
will record their attendance at the classes there. Percy 
and Tom have a hand — the scriptural hand — in this plan 
too. 

The remaining months of the school-year passed on 
happily. Little Frank, in the course of it, was received 
into the church. His temper grows milder with each 
month, but his sceptical “ Prove it, pro'^e it” is still with 
him. His success in his studies has been great, and his 
teacher looks upon his talent for mathematics as something 
wondrous. Towards Tom and Percy his affection strengthens 
with each day. He is to spend his vacation with Percy. 

Tom is the same little hero — generous, highminded, gay. 
In everything he and Percy are at one. He, too, intends to 
join Percy and Frank for a holiday pleasure trip. But 
first he is to spend a few weeks with gentle Aunt Meadow. 
It is not settled yet, whether Harry Quip, Joe Ruthers and 


216 


PERCY WYNN, OR 


Sam Whyte are to be of the party or not. Probably they 
will; and then hey! for the boating, and bathing, and 
fishing of some pretty retired Lake in Wisconsin ! 1 dare 

say they shall have a happy time ; for they bear with them 
one and all, true heads and sound hearts. 

The farewell of Tom and Percy on their homeward 
route, when they parted at Kansas City — Tom taking the 
train for St. Louis, and Percy the train for Cincinnati, 
may be of interest to our readers. 

“ Good bye, dear old Tom, God bless you ! I shall never 
forget your kindness. You’ve made a boy out of me sure 
enough.” 

“ Nonsense,” answered Tom giving Percy’s hand a hearty 
shake: ‘‘don’t talk about boys. You’re more than a boy. 
You’re a little man ; and you’ve got there by yourself.” 

“ Well, good bye.” 

“ Good bye — and God bless you.” 

We, too, kind readers, repeat Tom’s words. 

“ Good bye — and God bless you !” 


THE END. 





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